"For the love of God," cried the agitated Prince, "why did you come here? You have destroyed the state and me; you have brought ruin on yourself and on us."
The unfortunate lady was unable to utter another word. Her energy was exhausted. She lay there on the marble floor, half unconscious.
The Princess Apafi summoned her ladies-in-waiting, who, at her command, hastened to raise the lady in their arms and began to sprinkle her face with eau-de-Cologne.
"I cannot allow her to be brought into my house," cried the terrified Apafi; "it would bring utter destruction on me and my family."
The Princess cast a look full of dignity upon her husband.
"What do you mean? Would you hand this unfortunate woman over to her pursuers? In her present condition, too? Suppose I was obliged to fly in a similar plight, would you fling me out upon the high road instead of offering me a place of refuge?"
"But the wrath of the Sultan?"
"Yes; and the contempt of posterity?"
"Then would you have me bring ruin upon my throne and my family for the sake of a woman?"
"Better perish for the sake of a woman than do that woman to death. If you shut your rooms against her, I will open mine wide to receive her, and then you can tell the Sultan if you like that I have taken her."