The guards drew back the curtains and in came--Olaj Beg!

"Truly I must needs admit," said he turning towards the odalisk, who stood there petrified with fear and amazement, "truly I must admit that thou art blessed with the faculty of seeing through walls and reading fast-closed letters, for thou hast announced me before I appeared officially and thou hast seen the firman hidden in my bosom before I have had time to produce it."

Azrael arose. She felt her blood throbbing in her brain for terror. At that moment she had that keen sensation of danger when every atom of the body--heart, brain, hands, and the smallest nerve--sees, hears, and thinks.

"Thou hast brought the firman of the Sultan?" she inquired of Olaj Beg with wrapt attention.

"Thou knowest also what is written in it, O enchantress!" said Olaj, in a tone of homage, "therefore ask not."

There was something in the yellow face of Olaj Beg which made him most formidable, most menacing at the very time when he seemed to be utterly abject in his humility.

"What doth the Sublime Sultan command?" inquired Ha.s.san, gazing abstractedly in front of him.

"That thou prepare a scaffold in the courtyard of thy palace by to-morrow morning."

"For whom?" inquired Ha.s.san in alarm. It was curious that it was he who trembled at this word, and not the Princess.

"That is the secret of to-morrow. Thou shalt break open and read this firman to-morrow, in it thou wilt find who is to die to-morrow."

At these words Olaj Beg looked at the faces of all who were present, as if he would read their innermost thoughts, but in vain. He recognised none of those on whom his eyes fell. Although many of them seemed to be great men he could not remember meeting any of them in the Empire of the Grand Turk; and the face of Azrael was as cold and motionless as marble, he could read nought from that.

But Azrael had already read the sealed firman through the eyes of Olaj Beg.

She had read it, and it said that if by to-morrow morning the Princess was not set free then the scaffold would be erected for her, but if she had escaped, then it would be raised for Ha.s.san and for whomsoever had set her free.

"I must hasten to set her free," she thought.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE NIGHT BEFORE DEATH.

The Angel of Death had already spread his wings over the palace of Ha.s.san. It was already known that on the morning of the morrow someone of those who now dwelt beneath that roof would quit the world--only the name of the condemned mortal was not p.r.o.nounced.

Till late at evening the carpenters were at work in front of the palace gates, and every nail knocked into the fabric of the scaffold was audible in the rooms. When the structure was ready they covered it with red cloth, and placed upon it a three-legged chair and by the side of the chair leaned a bright round headsman's sword. A gigantic Kurd then mounted the scaffolding, and stamped about the floor with his big feet to see whether it would break down beneath him. The chair was badly placed, he observed it, put it right and shook his head while he did so.

To think that people did not understand how to set a chair! Then he stripped his muscular arms to the shoulder, took up the sword in his broad palm and tested the edge of it, running his fingers along the blade as if it were some musical instrument and could not conceal his satisfaction. Then he made some sweeping blows with it, and as if everything was now in perfect order, he leaned it against the chair again and descended the ladder like a man well content with himself.

The hands of Ha.s.san Pasha trembled unusually when that evening he locked the golden padlocks on the hands of Azrael and Mariska. A hundred times he tapped the key hidden in his girdle to convince himself that it had not fallen out.

Scarcely had he left the two women alone than he came back to them again to ascertain whether he had really locked their hands together, for he had forgotten all about it by the time he had reached the door.

Then he came back a second time, looked all round the room, tapped the walls repeatedly, for he was afraid or had dreamt that there was another door somewhere which led out of the room. However, he convinced himself at last that there was not. Then he went to the window and looked out.

There was a fall of fifteen feet to the bastions, and the ditch below was planted with sharp stakes; all round the room there was nothing whatever which could serve as a rope. The curtains were all of down and feathers; the dresses were of the lightest transparent material; the shawls which formed Azrael's turban and were twisted round her body were the finest conceivable; and the garments the odalisk actually wore were of silk, and so light that they stuck to the skin everywhere.

Azrael saw through the mind of the Vizier.

"Why dost though look at me?" she exclaimed aloud so that he trembled all over; "thou dost suspect me. If thou fearest this woman whom thou hast confided to me, take and guard her thyself."

"Azrael," said Ha.s.san meekly, "be not angry with me, at least not now."

"Thou hast never suspected me, then?"

"Have I not always loved thee? If even thou didst want my life would I not trust it with thee?"

"Then wander not about the room so. Go and rest!"

"Rest to-night? The Messenger of Death stands before the door."

"What care I about the Messenger of Death? I know _when_ I am going to die! And _till_ then I will not lower my eyes before Death."

"And when will Ha.s.san die?" asked the Vizier, seizing the hand of his favourite and watching eagerly for her answer with parted lips.

"Thou wilt survive me a day and no longer," said Azrael. There was a tremulousness in the intonation of her voice. She felt that what she said was true.

The tears trickled from Ha.s.san's face, and he covered it with his hands.

Then the imbecile old man kissed the robe of the odalisk again and again, and folding her in his ardent embrace, actually sobbed over her.

And he kept on babbling:

"Thou wilt die before me?"

"So it is written in the book of the Future," said Azrael proudly; "so long as thou seest me alive, have no fear of Death! But the sound of the horn of the Angel of Death which summons me away will also be a signal for thee to make ready."

Ha.s.san, having dried his tears, quitted Azrael's room, and on reaching his own, sank down upon a divan, and was immediately overcome by sleep.

When he had gone, Mariska knelt down before the bed on which her little child was softly sleeping, and drawing a little ivory cross from her breast, began to pray.

Azrael touched her hand.

"Pray not now, thou wilt have time to pray later."

Mariska looked at her in wonder.

"I? Are not the hours of my life numbered?"

"No. Listen to my words and act accordingly. I will free thee."

The Princess was astonished, she fancied she was dreaming.

The odalisk now drew a small fine steel file from her girdle, and, seizing the Princess's hand, began to file the chain from off it.

After the first few rubs the sharp file bit deeply into the silver circlet, but suddenly it stopped, and, press it as hard as she would, it would bite the chain no more.

"What is this? it won't go on. What is the chain made of? Even if it were of steel, another steel would file it."