"How so?" asked Ducardanoy, in surprise. "It is not visible on the horizon, and must be a day's journey. How shall I see it shortly?"
"You will see it as the Evil One flies through the air with your soul on the way to the abode of the lost. Mustapha, bring out Sunlight and his consort, and make ready to drag these infidels asunder."
The chiropodists turned pale as this command was given, and the horses were brought forth, one a dapple gray with gold shoes, the other a dapple gray with silver shoes, and they had not yet uttered a word when the Sheik's retainers advanced to bind them.
"Stop!" cried Ducardanoy. "Why are we to be killed? What is our crime?"
"Do you not remember the time when by your devilish arts you frightened some true believers at the Roman tower and took their property? The Sheik of that tribe was my nephew, and even if he were no kin of mine, you infidel dogs should die for robbing true believers."
"When death is a punishment," said Bouchardy, "it is where the man desires to live and cannot, for if he desires to die, death can be no punishment. Now when you subject us to the slow torture of being pulled apart by these horses, we hail death with delight as a relief to pain, and your punishment has failed."
The Sheik scowled and said nothing.
"Where death comes quickly and without pain," continued Bouchardy, "the desire to live is intense, and death is all that the utmost hate can ask for as a revenge."
"Why do you point out these things to us?" asked the Sheik's vizier. "If what you say is true, why do you point out to us a way to make your punishment more terrible?"
"To show you how much wiser we Frenchmen are than you Arabs. To make you see how hopeless is the design you witless Arabs cherish of driving the wise French from the land. If my sorrow can accomplish anything for the republic, I willingly endure it."