“Come hither,” called Elissa, addressing the woman. “Now tell me, what scroll was this that you carried to-day to the prince Aziel, saying that I sent you?”
“Lady,” answered the girl confusedly, “I never told the prince Aziel that you sent him the scroll.”
“The truth, woman, the truth,” said her mistress. “Lie not, or it will be the worse for you.”
“Lady, this is the truth. As I was walking through the market-place an old black woman met me, and offered me a piece of gold if I would deliver a letter into the hand of the prince Aziel. The gold tempted me, for I had need of it, and I consented; but of who wrote the letter I know nothing, nor have I ever seen the woman before.”
“You have done wrong, girl,” said Elissa, “but I believe your tale. Now go.”
When she had gone, Elissa stood for a while thinking; and, as she thought, Metem saw a look of fear gather on her face.
“Say,” she asked him, “is there anything strange about the tree of which the scroll tells?”
“Its size is strange,” he answered, “and it has five roots that stand above the ground.”
As he spoke Elissa uttered a little cry.
“Ah!” she said, “it is the tree of my dream. Now—now I understand. Swift, oh! come with me swiftly, for see, the moon rises,” and she sprang to the door followed by the amazed Metem.