Poor Lindsay! It was rather a sudden and severe test of fidelity to be sent forth to lay violent hands on a man and woman and bring them forcibly to the Governor’s house, without any better reason than that a self-willed girl ordered him so to do; at the same time, he perceived that, if he did not act promptly, the retreating figures would soon turn into the town, and be hopelessly beyond his power of recognition.
“But—but—” he stammered, “if they won’t come—?”
“They must come. Threaten my father’s high displeasure.—Quick, Senhor,” cried the young lady in a commanding tone.
Lindsay flung open the casement and leapt through it as being the shortest way out of the house, rushed with undignified speed along the road, and overtook the Arab and his friend as they were about to turn into one of the narrow lanes of the town.
“Pardon me,” said the lieutenant laying his hand on Yoosoof’s shoulder in his anxiety to make sure of him, “will you be so good as to return with me to the Governor’s residence?”
“By whose orders?” demanded Yoosoof with a look of surprise.
“The orders of the Senhorina Maraquita.”
The Arab hesitated, looked somewhat perplexed, and said something in Portuguese to Marizano, who pointed to the slave-girl, and spoke with considerable vehemence.
Lindsay did not understand what was said, but, conjecturing that the half-caste was proposing that Azinté should remain with him, he said:— “The girl must return with you—if you would not incur the Governor’s displeasure.”
Marizano, on having this explained to him, looked with much ferocity at the lieutenant and spoke to Yoosoof in wrathful tones, but the latter shook his head, and the former, who disliked Marizano’s appearance excessively, took not the least notice of him.