“I know full well,” said the savage. “You are the daughter of the chief who wronged my master; who slew my master’s brother; and you are the timid maid who would not be his bride. But now you’ll not again refuse to obey his will.”
“I know not of whom you speak,” cried Ina. “My father never slew a chief of Attèghèi.”
“I know your father well,” answered the ruffian. “He is the Chieftain Arslan Gherrei, and you refused to be the bride of the brave Khan, my master, Khoros Kaloret.”
“Your master Kaloret Khan?” cried Ina, still more terrified than before, at the sound of that name. “Yet he would never dare to rob a noble Uzden of his daughter. Release me, ruffian!”
“My master fears not any chief of Attèghèi,” answered the man, fiercely. “I’ll waste no more speech; so cease your cries, and come willingly. My noble master waits your coming.”
Ina shrieked with fear. “Oh, Allah, protect me!” she cried, as the savage endeavoured to drag her away. “Barbarian, release me, I pray you, let me go.”
“No, no, girl, your prayers are useless,” answered the man. “Let my master hear them. On me, they are thrown away.”
“Haste, haste, Conrin,” she cried, in Turkish; “fly to our home. Send messengers to Selem, to my father, and rouse the villagers.”
As the barbarian saw the page hastening to obey, he said to Ina: “Stay that boy, till we are out of sight. If he moves hence, I’ll send an arrow through his breast.”
Conrin, who understood not his words—Ina being too terrified to interpret them—was hurrying from rock to rock, fearless of the peril which a single false step might cause, or of the cruel death which threatened him; when the barbarian prepared to put his threat into execution. For an instant, he loosened his hold of Ina, unslinging his bow from his back, and drawing a shaft to its head, with a hand which never missed its aim. In vain, Ina shrieked to Conrin to stop, and implored the monster to hold his hand. Neither of them heard her voice.