He was a young
man, and his ear was caught by that tuneful voice, his eyes by that
youthful face. He signed upward the swords of his followers, and
motioned them back as their arms were stretched to seize her, and their
shouts clamored for her slaughter.
"Speak on," he said briefly to her.
"You have sworn to take my body, sawn in two, to Ben-Ihreddin?" she
pursued, naming the Arab leader whom her Spahis had driven off the field
of Zaraila. "Well, here it is; you can take it to him; and you will
receive the piasters, and the horses, and the arms that he has promised
to whoever shall slay me. I have surrendered; I am yours. But you are
bold men, and the bold are never mean; therefore, I will ask one thing
of you. There is a man yonder, in my camp, condemned to death with the
dawn. He is innocent. I have ridden from Algiers to-day with the order
of his release. If it is not there by sunrise he will be shot; and he
is guiltless as a child unborn. My horse is worn out; he could not go
another half league. I knew that, since he had failed, my comrade would
perish, unless I found a fresh beast or a messenger to go in my stead.
I saw your band come across the plain. I knew that you would kill me,
because of your oath and of your Emir's bride; but I thought that you
would have greatness enough in you to save this man who is condemned,
without crime, and who must perish unless you, his foes, have pity on
him. Therefore I came.
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