Suddenly he stood before the damsel, who nonchalantly strummed the strings of her instrument.
"What dost thou want?"
"Ask not what thou knowest."
"Thou wouldst save Feriz?"
"I will save him."
"I swear by Allah it is not to be done. Die he must, if only to tame thee; for if he remain alive thou wilt destroy the lot of us sooner or later."
Azrael collapsed at the feet of the Beg. Sobbing, she embraced his knees.
"Oh, be merciful! Say but a word for him to the general. I love the youth as thou canst see and dost very well know. Do not let him perish!"
Like all little souls, Yffim Beg became all the bolder at these supplicating words, and seizing Azrael by the arms, roughly pulled her to her feet, and whispered in her ear with malicious joy:
"I'll make thee a present of his head."