“Ho, fetters here!—Villains, you resist?”
“No no!” cried the lady. “They cannot work so fast in fetters. The princesses want flowers—more flowers;” and the girls flew back to their garden, followed by some of the Portuguese.
The seclusion of the Moorish women was not so complete as to forbid occasional intercourse with the other sex, slaves especially; and presently the foremost girl came scudding back again to where Fernando lay, holding something in both her hands.
“Poor Christian,” she said, “here is some milk for you. Muley is cruel to strike you. Shall I ask Princess Hinda to beg the king to cut his head off?”
Fernando had acquired enough of the Moorish language to understand her, and negatived this alarming proposal decidedly, while he thanked her for the milk, saying—
“I would not be so discourteous, lady, as to sit in your presence, but that I cannot rise.”
“I suppose that is because they ill-use you,” she said, sorrowfully. “Look,” taking a heap of flowers and laying them beside him, “now Muley will think you have sorted those. What do they call you?”
“Selim,” said Fernando; for though it was well known who he was, like all the rest he had a slave’s name.
“Perhaps you will work for my princess,” said the girl; “she will be kind to you.”
“Leila, Leila?” cried a voice, and, snatching up a handful of flowers, she ran off in haste.