"Thou hast brought the firman of the Sultan?" she inquired of Olaj Beg with wrapt attention.
"Thou knowest also what is written in it, O enchantress!" said Olaj, in a tone of homage, "therefore ask not."
There was something in the yellow face of Olaj Beg which made him most formidable, most menacing at the very time when he seemed to be utterly abject in his humility.
"What doth the Sublime Sultan command?" inquired Hassan, gazing abstractedly in front of him.
"That thou prepare a scaffold in the courtyard of thy palace by to-morrow morning."
"For whom?" inquired Hassan in alarm. It was curious that it was he who trembled at this word, and not the Princess.
"That is the secret of to-morrow. Thou shalt break open and read this firman to-morrow, in it thou wilt find who is to die to-morrow."
At these words Olaj Beg looked at the faces of all who were present, as if he would read their innermost thoughts, but in vain. He recognised none of those on whom his eyes fell. Although many of them seemed to be great men he could not remember meeting any of them in the Empire of the Grand Turk; and the face of Azrael was as cold and motionless as marble, he could read nought from that.
But Azrael had already read the sealed firman through the eyes of Olaj Beg.
She had read it, and it said that if by to-morrow morning the Princess was not set free then the scaffold would be erected for her, but if she had escaped, then it would be raised for Hassan and for whomsoever had set her free.