"My birds?" The Prince had returned. The imperious voice roused her; roused her temper also.
"Here, my lord," she replied curtly.
"What? Only one?" The voice was angry now; almost ready for a curse.
She set, as it were, soul and body into cold ice.
"Sire!" she answered, with chill courtesy, "one has flown."
In the shade of the trees, her face, averted, was unseen, and of her figure, crouched in upon itself instinctively, the Prince saw nothing but childish outlines.
"Stupid fool," he cried roughly. "How? Damn you! Tell me how."
She was on her feet in a second, facing his anger fearlessly, her own blazing hot in defiance of all things. Aye! even this fading Prince who dared to call her fool!
"So! my lord!" she cried defiantly and from her outstretched hands the second dove flew circling to join its mate.
Salîm stood startled into silence. From the orange tree the doves were cooing. The perfumes of the garden rose up around them. Overhead blazed the brazen sky.