“It will be useless,” said the slave; “he comes here to take you away to the palace, or some secret place, for the rumours of your amazing beauty have entranced him. You are destined to be his mistress or death awaits you.”
“Then welcome death,” said Ellen, “ere I submit, and degrade myself to so low a level! Heaven assist me in my sore trial this night!”
While she spoke and wept, the Nubian slave crept back again to the door.
“I hear his footstep again,” he whispered, and laid his ear close down to the floor.
At that moment the bed hangings rustled.
With a gasp of horror, Ellen perceived an elegant stranger had effected an entrance into her chamber.
It was the King!
The slave had not perceived this, and was still listening, with head averted.
The King, sword in hand, looked at the dusky slave, and breathed a desperate oath.
He raised his sword, and would have killed the dusky but faithful Nubian upon the spot.