"I must hasten to set her free," she thought.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE NIGHT BEFORE DEATH.
The Angel of Death had already spread his wings over the palace of Hassan. It was already known that on the morning of the morrow someone of those who now dwelt beneath that roof would quit the world—only the name of the condemned mortal was not pronounced.
Till late at evening the carpenters were at work in front of the palace gates, and every nail knocked into the fabric of the scaffold was audible in the rooms. When the structure was ready they covered it with red cloth, and placed upon it a three-legged chair and by the side of the chair leaned a bright round headsman's sword. A gigantic Kurd then mounted the scaffolding, and stamped about the floor with his big feet to see whether it would break down beneath him. The chair was badly placed, he observed it, put it right and shook his head while he did so. To think that people did not understand how to set a chair! Then he stripped his muscular arms to the shoulder, took up the sword in his broad palm and tested the edge of it, running his fingers along the blade as if it were some musical instrument and could not conceal his satisfaction. Then he made some sweeping blows with it, and as if everything was now in perfect order, he leaned it against the chair again and descended the ladder like a man well content with himself.
The hands of Hassan Pasha trembled unusually when that evening he locked the golden padlocks on the hands of Azrael and Mariska. A hundred times he tapped the key hidden in his girdle to convince himself that it had not fallen out.
Scarcely had he left the two women alone than he came back to them again to ascertain whether he had really locked their hands together, for he had forgotten all about it by the time he had reached the door.
Then he came back a second time, looked all round the room, tapped the walls repeatedly, for he was afraid or had dreamt that there was another door somewhere which led out of the room. However, he convinced himself at last that there was not. Then he went to the window and looked out. There was a fall of fifteen feet to the bastions, and the ditch below was planted with sharp stakes; all round the room there was nothing whatever which could serve as a rope. The curtains were all of down and feathers; the dresses were of the lightest transparent material; the shawls which formed Azrael's turban and were twisted round her body were the finest conceivable; and the garments the odalisk actually wore were of silk, and so light that they stuck to the skin everywhere.
Azrael saw through the mind of the Vizier.
"Why dost though look at me?" she exclaimed aloud so that he trembled all over; "thou dost suspect me. If thou fearest this woman whom thou hast confided to me, take and guard her thyself."