She did not
lead into the cavern beyond the door. She waited for him, leaning
against the door-post and smiling as if she and he were old friends
who understood each other.
"I but tried thee, Ranjoor Singh!" she smiled, looking up into his
face and holding the lantern closer to his eyes, as if she would read
behind them. "Thou art a soldier, and not a buffalo at all! I am
sorry that I called thee buffalo. My heart goes out ever to a brave
man, Ranjoor Singh!"
He was actually at her side, her clothes touched his, and he could
have flung his arms around her. But it was the move next after that
which seemed obscure. He wondered what her reply would be; and,
moving the lantern a little, she read the hesitation in his eyes--the
wavering between desire for vengeance, a soldierly regard for sex,
and mistrust of her apparent helplessness. And, being Yasmini, she
dared him.
"Like swords I have seen!" she laughed. "Two cutting edges and a
point! Not to be held save by the hilt, eh, Ranjoor Singh? Search me
for weapons first, and then use that dagger in thy hair--I am unarmed!"
"Lead on!" he commanded in a voice that grated harshly, for it
needed all his willpower to prevent his self-command from giving out.
He knew that behind temptation of any kind there lie the iron teeth
of unexpected consequences.
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