Azora sat alone in a room in the women's apartments; it was furnished with carpets, ottomans, and cushions. At one end, a glass door opened into a garden, full of fruit-trees and flowers, but surrounded by high walls. An old woman to whose charge she had been consigned had selected the room for her, and treated her with every attention. Here, without altering her dress, she had snatched an unrefreshing sleep. She had received a communication from her mother,—for gold can open a Sultan's hareem—enjoining on her to gain time, by procrastination, to further the measures taken for her deliverance, and she naturally shrunk from hurrying on her own fate, if delay might be obtained without a sacrifice of principle. Her eyes were fixed on the walls of her prison, and she was absorbed in deep and painful thought on her unfortunate position and probable fate, when she was startled by the entrance of the Sultan. She immediately arose and stood by the door of the garden, involuntarily, from fear or humility, removing as far as possible from him.
"Have you an answer to my proposal, O light of my earth?" said he, approaching her with a smile.
"Alas, my lord!" said Azora, clasping her hands, "is justice dead? is there no condition of freedom but sinning against God, even the God of my fathers?"
"Talk not to me of gods," said he, impatiently; "my religion does not interfere with my pleasure; if it is to save you from danger, do not your priests teach you that compulsion is not sin? But why, O my beautiful, talk of sin?" he continued, in a winning tone. "Is it a crime to love? Can your gentle eyes spurn a Sultan from your feet? Drive me not to despair. Oh, if you would but adopt our holy faith, I, even I, would be your champion; and where would be the slave that would dare to think a thought to harm you? Oh, Azora! Azora! I have had no peace since I saw you; you are the sultana, I am the slave,—the victim. Oh, look on me at your feet, and have pity,—on yourself, on me!" He was on his knee, with his left hand he held her right, which was cold as marble, while the other was stretched out imploringly. There is no doubt he loved her, as much as a man so incapable by habit of real love could do. She was so different from the inmates of his hareem; many of these doubtless had beauty, but it was the difference of human beings reared in a torpid state of seclusion, and one who had been always free!—the fascination of intellect. Azora would not have been woman, had she not been deeply moved by this earnest appeal. To see him, before whom all men trembled, a suppliant at her feet, it was a fearful trial for human nature unaided. And she breathed an inward prayer for help. She dreaded the storm which she saw gathering, but felt more courage to brave his threats than his entreaties. Gently disengaging herself from his hands, she said,—
"O my lord, tempt me not. Let not my lord kneel to his servant; threaten me, torture me, but let not my lord talk of love. Do I not know the fate of a favourite,—the plaything of a day; thrown by to pine in neglect and solitude? And shall I not expect, and deserve, worse than these,—I, a despised renegade, a traitoress to my faith, surrounded by jealous enemies,—and forsaken by my God? No!" said she firmly, and looking up to heaven, "rather let me die at once, than die a thousand deaths by dragging out a degraded life of shame and remorse, to end in eternal ruin."
And now the storm burst; his love spurned and his power braved, it is not easy to describe the tumult of passion, the more fierce from being seldom roused, that raged in the Sultan's breast, on hearing this address. Love, revenge, fury, seized on him by turns, his emotions were too intense for utterance, but shown by the terrific working of his countenance; he bit his parched lip till the blood flowed, his eyes flashed fire, from under his dark stormy brow, and his frame trembled as if about to be overcome by a fit of insanity. While this hurricane lasted, the life of Azora, who stood terror-struck, hung by a frail thread. By a strong effort he gradually recovered his self-possession, and when he spoke it was with frightful calmness; his face was deadly pale as he turned to depart, "This, then, is your decision; you are prepared for the consequences?"
In her resolve not to compromise her principles, Azora had forgotten the necessity of obtaining delay; but having asserted these, she had now to risk the rectification of this omission.
"O my lord! be not hasty," she said, "let me have time to consider; perhaps—" but her voice faltered; "but—if I must—die—a few days or weeks will be a short preparation for eternity!"
The Sultan stopped, and fixed his eyes on her changing countenance, in which he thought he saw signs of her wavering, and his love prompted him to delay while any hope remained. He replied in his former calm tone, "Azora, I have granted your request; two weeks shall you have for reflection. If at the end of that time you still spurn my love, by the tomb of the Prophet! no power on earth shall save you."