The omission, rather than the question, hurt him—still he returned:
"Yes, once he really loves."
Then she appeared to awake.
"To the narrative now—Forgive my wandering."
The opportunity to return was a relief to him, and he hastened to improve it.
"I thank you for grace, O Princess, and am reminded of the pressure of time. I must to the gate again with the Emperor.... This is my proposal. Instead of biding here to be taken by some rapacious hordesman, go with me to Sancta Sophia, and when the Sultan comes thither—as he certainly will—deliver yourself to him. If, before his arrival, the plunderers force the doors of the holy house, I will stand with you, not, Princess, as Count Corti the Italian, but Mirza the Emir and Janissary, appointed by the Sultan to guard you. My Berbers will help the assumption."
He had spoken clearly, yet she hesitated.
"Ah," he said, "you doubt Mahommed. He will be upon honor. The glory-winners, Princess, are those always most in awe of the judgment of the world."
Yet she sat silent.
"Or is it I who am in your doubt?"