“Dog of a Christian!—what do you here?” he cried, striking blow after blow.
With a sudden impulse Leila rushed forward, and threw herself on her knees beside them.
“I too am a Christian!” she cried, and before Jussuf could stay his hand, the heavy blow intended for his victim, fell on Leila’s head, and stretched her senseless on the grass.
“Coward and villain!” cried the prince, all his knightly manhood roused, as with sudden strength he sprang up, and for once returned the blow.
All passed in a moment. Leila’s screams had brought both the other women and the slaves and overseers without to the spot, and Fernando’s hands were pinioned, and he was dragged away before he had time to see whether Leila’s senses returned to her. He bitterly blamed himself for having yielded to her proposal, for the incident brought far severer restrictions on himself and his companions, and he feared much suffering on the poor maiden herself; and many were the prayers he offered that she who had been impelled to so brave a confession might not be forced into denying the Faith which she scarcely knew, and that this tender, innocent child might not have to endure such suffering as tried the uttermost strength of grown men. Leila, when she revived from the stunning blow, was dizzy and faint; but when her princess questioned her, she answered boldly, that she knew the slave Selim to be the Prince of Portugal, and that she herself was a Christian lady—she could not bear to see him beaten.
Whereat the princess angrily reminded Leila that she too was but a slave, and sentenced her to a whipping—not very severe—for her disobedience and folly. Leila was a slave, and she took the stripes as her due, and cried at their smart, then kissed her mistress’s hand, and begged for pardon; and the princess indolently forgave her, and bade her go and work at her cushion.
“But do not weep,” said she, “for Ayesha is growing prettier than you, and if you cannot laugh and sing to amuse me, I shall let Jussuf marry you as he wishes. I told him you entertained me, and I would not spare you.”
“Oh, princess!” cried Leila in an agony, “I love you; let me stay with you.”
“Well, sing then, and learn some pretty dances; you are tiresome when you cry.”
But Leila’s efforts failed to please. She was no longer a little soulless plaything. Thoughts of her distant home, of her prince’s sufferings, yearnings after that unknown Saviour, Whom he followed, filled her heart, and her eyes grew absent and her lips sad. She fretted, and her feet were less light, her voice less ringing.