“My message is for your ear, Prince,” she said, glancing at the man who had ushered her into the chamber.
“It is not my custom to receive strangers thus alone,” said the prince; “but be it as you will,” and he motioned to the servant to retire without the door. “I await your pleasure,” he added, when the man had gone.
“It is here,” she answered, and drew from her bosom a little papyrus roll.
“Who wrote this?” he asked.
“I know not, Prince; it was given to me to pass on to you.”
Then he opened the roll and read. It ran thus: “Though we parted with bitter words, still in my sore distress I crave the comfort of your counsel. Therefore, since I am forbidden to speak with you openly, meet me, I beseech you, at moonrise in the palace garden under the shade of the great fig tree with five roots, where I shall be accompanied only by one I trust. Bring no man with you for my safety’s sake.—Elissa.”
Aziel thrust the scroll into his robe, and thought awhile. Then he gave the waiting lady a piece of gold and said:—
“Tell her who sent you that I obey her words. Farewell.”
This message seemed to puzzle the woman, who opened her lips to speak. Then, changing her mind, she turned and went.
Scarcely had she gone when the Phœnician, Metem, was ushered into the room.