“They are not looking. Come inside and rest,” she said.
Fernando was almost fainting; he yielded unthinkingly, and putting down his burden of heavy stones, dropped down on the grass.
“Oh, you will die, as the other slave did,” cried Leila, in terror.
“No, lady,” said Fernando, recovering himself; “this rest has revived me. I have sought to speak with you to tell you that I have been enabled to send home a message to your father, telling him of your safety; and I doubt not that he will find means to offer such a ransom as may restore you to your friends.”
Leila trembled.
“My lord,” she said, “I am afraid to be a Christian.”
“Ah, do not think,” said Fernando, “that the cross would bring on you such suffering as you see in these poor slaves; or, if so, it is in the service of a Master Who endured infinitely more for His followers.”
“Like you,” said Leila.
“Nay,” said Fernando, “yet if I could reach that likeness—”
The prince had risen to his feet, and stood leaning against the gateway. Leila sat on the grass. She had pushed aside her veil, and was looking up at him with her clear blue eyes shining through half-shed tears. Suddenly Jussuf’s heavy hand fell on Fernando’s shoulder, striking him down to the ground again.