"What, do you court the father? Make good with the girl."
"I cannot. She will have none of me."
For Amulon, who owed his title of favorite to his intrepidity and unscrupulousness, to acknowledge himself beaten was highly amusing.
"The girl has been a companion to her father and has imbibed his notions," her lover continued. "If she were moved into another atmosphere she might change her mind. Association with the gracious Princess Otalitza would certainly mend her manners."
"So you want—"
"Her brought to the palace."
The king scowled. "Amulon, I can deny you nothing. Let the girl be brought. But look you," he added quickly, "she is to be in the train of the princess. Hands off, for awhile, you understand. Her father is a good soldier, and might cause trouble."
"You will send your orders?" said Amulon, following up his advantage.
"The palanquin shall fetch her today."
Both men looked up. Noises of turmoil and commotion came from the doorway. Half a dozen soldiers, dragging a limp figure, burst into the room. They were followed by a howling mob that shouted, "Away with him! Down with the prophet!"