Just then there came a light tap at his door. He opened it,—and Zaroba stood before him. No repentance for her fault of disobedience and betrayal of trust clouded that withered old face of hers,—her deep-set dark eyes glittered with triumph, and her whole aspect was one of commanding, and almost imperious, dignity. In fact, she made such an ostentatious show of her own self-importance in her look and manner that El-Râmi stared at her for a moment in haughty amazement at what he considered her effrontery in thus boldly facing him after her direct violation of his commands. He eyed her up and down—she returned him glance for glance unquailingly.
“Let me come in—” she said in her strong harsh voice—“I make no doubt but that the poor lad Féraz has told you his story—now, as God liveth, you must hear mine.”
El-Râmi turned upon his heel with a contemptuous movement, and went back to his own chair by the writing-table. Zaroba, paying no heed to the wrath conveyed by this mute action, stalked in also, and, shutting the door after her, came and stood close beside him.
“Write down what you think of me—” she said, pointing with her yellow forefinger at the pens and paper—“Write the worst. I have betrayed my trust. That is true. I have disobeyed your commands after keeping them for six long years. True again. What else?”
El-Râmi fixed his eyes upon her, a world of indignation and reproach in their brilliant depths, and snatching up a pencil he wrote on a slip of paper rapidly—
“Nothing else—nothing more than treachery! You are unworthy of your sacred task—you are false to your sworn fidelity.”
Zaroba read the lines as quickly as he wrote them, but when she came to the last words she made a swift gesture of denial, and drew herself up haughtily.
“No—not false!” she said passionately—“Not false to you, El-Râmi, I swear! I would slay myself rather than do you wrong. You saved my life, though my life was not worth saving, and for that gentle deed I would pour out every drop of my blood to requite you. No, no! Zaroba is not false—she is true!”
She tossed up her arms wildly,—then suddenly folding them tight across her chest, she dropped her voice to a gentler and more appealing tone.
“Hear me, El-Râmi!—Hear me, wise man and Master of the magic of the East!—I have done well for you;—well! I have disobeyed you for your own sake,—I have betrayed my trust that you may discover how and where you may find your best reward. I have sinned with the resolved intent to make you happy,—as God liveth, I speak truth from my heart and soul!”