"Kharvani!" he muttered, half aloud.
"Aye! Call on Kharvani!" sneered the Risaldar. "Perhaps the Bride
of Sivi will appear! Call louder!"
He stirred again among the charcoal with his tongs, and Ruth and the
High Priest both shuddered.
"Look!" said the High Priest in Hindustanee, nodding in Ruth's direction.
It was the first word that he had addressed to them. It took them
by surprise, and the Risaldar and his half-brother turned and looked.
Their breath left them.
Framed in the yellow lamplight, her thin, hot-weather garments draped
about her like a morning mist, Ruth stood and stared straight back
at them through frightened eyes. Her blue-black hair, which had become
loosened in her excitement, hung in a long plait over one shoulder
and gleamed in the lamp's reflection. Her skin took on a faintly
golden color from the feeble light, and her face seemed stamped with
fear, anxiety, pity and suffering, all at once, that strangely enhanced
her beauty, silhouetted as she was against the blackness of the wall
behind, she seemed to be standing in an aura, shimmering with radiated
light.
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