“Oh, dear me! this is very odd and very dreadful, and most improper! But poor Maharbal’s horse is dead, and he looks at death’s door himself. Oh! what hath happened? I hope Hannibal is not dead as well, or a prisoner, or anything awful. But nay! he hath sent his seal. But I must prepare a room for poor Maharbal to die in; where shall I get a bed big enough? what a long body he will be.” And so chattering to herself, for want of anyone else to talk to, she left Maharbal, the handsome young warrior, alone with the beautiful child of sixteen, the Lady Elissa.
CHAPTER II.
MAHARBAL.
The young warrior had sunk down upon the grass, and was leaning wearily upon his elbow by the time that, having partially robed herself, Elissa was able to issue from the pond and fly to his side. He seemed dying. Oblivious of all but the presence of the man whom in her heart she loved with all the spontaneity of a youthful, ardent nature, she not only thought of nothing but him, but she shewed it clearly by the look in her eyes and by her actions.
“Oh, Maharbal! Maharbal! look not thus. Dost thou not know that I love thee?”
She stooped over, seized his hand and pressed it to her lips, then, with part of her raiment which was lying at hand, she repeatedly bathed his brows with the cool water from the pond. But his eyes closed as though he were in a faint; whereupon she leant over, and in an agony of fear kissed him madly on the lips, muttering the while some incoherent loving words, and cooing in his ear. They were the first kisses that ever she had given to man, the virgin kisses of her beautiful lips. Her embraces brought him to himself. Despite the delight that shone in his eyes and the gratitude he felt at the unlooked-for favour, the wounded warrior had not by any means forgotten his duty. With returning consciousness he stretched out his hand and gently pushed her back.
“This is no time for kisses, Elissa; there is other work to be done. The State, thy father’s life, and thine own are to be considered; help me to sit up and to rest against my poor dead charger. There, that will do; now I feel better.”
For with all the might of her weak arms she had managed to drag rather than help him into a sitting posture, and place him with his back against the dead horse.
“Now sit by me and listen, and read what I have brought thee. First, take this seal from my finger; it is a duplicate of Hannibal’s signet ring. Here within my doublet I have a letter; canst thou get it? I have no strength left.”
Elissa felt for some time beneath the doublet with trembling fingers, but could not find the letter.
“Hold my hand and guide it,” he said, smiling faintly. Thus aided, he produced a sealed letter from under his leather jerkin. “Take my dagger and cut it open,” he said authoritatively.