Majmun counted up to six hundred with a loud voice.
Meanwhile, Azrael ran along the dam of the river bank till she came to the sluice, which she raised by the exertion of her full strength. The liberated water began to flow through the opening with a mighty roar.
Then Azrael hastened back to the negro.
"And now for the island," said she.
And once more they traversed the dangerous way, Azrael lying on her back with a hand on the negro's head. In her bosom was a poplar leaf, which afforded her great satisfaction.
On reaching the island Azrael richly recompensed the negro, and said to him:
"To-morrow morning, at dawn, thy master, Yffim Beg, will seek thee and command thee to accompany him and Hassan Pasha across the bridge to the other side where stands the camp of Feriz Beg. Thou wilt find no one there, but look at the place where we were this night, and if thou shouldst find there a nosegay or a wreath, bring it to me!"
Majmun listened with amazement. How could Azrael have found out all about these things?
Azrael returned to the kiosk, where Hassan Pasha was still sleeping the deep sleep of opium. He awoke in the arms of his favourite, and he could not understand why her hands were so cold and her kisses so burning.
The odalisk told him she had been dreaming. She had dreamt that she swam across the river enticed by the singing of the Peris.