"No! no!" sobbed the woman. "Wait, and put thy trust in the Lord, and do not think of death."
"Have you pacified her?" asked Máma Luteefa, anxiously. "Will she be quiet?"
"Yes, if you do not meddle with her," was the reply.
"And you will come to-morrow?"
"I will," replied Goolab, and hastened away.
CHAPTER X.
HOW THE NIGHT PASSED.
The evening wore on, the golden sunset faded, and the stupendous mass of the fort became grey and dim; while on the uppermost towers the light lingered, as if loth to leave them. Still the old man hoped and hoped, and his old servant comforted him, or tried to do so, though she could not conceal her own sad fears. Had Zóra slipped and fallen into the river or into a crevice of the rocks? Had she and Ahmed been attacked by the panthers, which began to growl as the day declined? Whom could she send to see? She dare not venture herself or leave her master. Then the night fell on all suddenly; and the old man, blind as he was, knew the change from day to night had come. He was very restless, groping his way into the courtyard, and feeling in every room and corner with his staff. "Zóra! Zóra! Zóra!" he cried almost unremittingly, "where art thou? Come to me, come to me! I bid thee not delay. Oh, I shall die if thou comest not." Then he went into the little mosque, cried the evening call to prayer, and waited, but no one came. "Why had all deserted him, and Zóra too?"