'And Jerada,' said I, laughing, 'did she still remain sealed up in the rock, or did the death of Solymon dissolve the spell?'
'Jerada wept and prayed sorely, for she had not deceived Solymon; but had been herself deceived by the wicked Geni Sakhur, who, as a traitor and falsifier, was worthy of the most severe death, the just could inflict—'
'Right, O Allah!' exclaimed a hoarse fierce voice behind us; 'right, wretch, and you have named your own sentence!'
A low cry of terror left the white lips of Iola, and springing to my feet, I found myself confronted by the two flaming eyes, the levelled pistols, and the portly person of the furious Yuze Bashi, Hussein Ebn al Ajuz!
CHAPTER XLVI.
HUSSEIN'S WRATH.
While listening to this old Arabian legend, which fell so prettily from the lisping tongue of Iola, I never thought of Hussein, who, having transacted with the Seraskier his business, which merely concerned the shipment of certain guns and shot for Varna, was then galloping along the paved road to Rodosdchig.
Intent upon the dark and tender eyes, the white neck, and soft tresses of Iola, I did not hear the ruffle beaten on the brass drum of the Main-guard as he cantered into the court; nor did I hear the tramp of his horse or his heavy foot-fall on the old Greek marble stair, or in the anteroom; nor did I remember in any way that a being so ungainly and so decidedly unwelcome existed in the world, until the muslin hangings were fiercely rent asunder, and he stood before us, his countenance livid with just rage, his dark eyes gleaming like two live coals, and his long brass-barrelled Turkish pistols levelled at us, one in each hand.
I had no weapon but my sword, which I immediately unsheathed, while instinctively placing myself between him and the mute and terror-stricken Iola, who sank grovelling before him, bowing her beautiful head to the carpet, and murmuring only—
'Mercy! mercy! vai! vai! woe—woe!'