“Though thou art his wife, thou dost not appear to regret thy departure.”
“Why should I, when I have been detained here over a year against my will? If thou only knewest the dreary life a woman leadeth in the hands of a brute she hates and despises—ah!” and she shuddered.
“Then thou wilt now regain freedom?” I said, surprised.
“Yes. For many moons have I waited in patience for this moment, and at last I have accomplished what I sought. Already the preparations are being made. My two trusty slaves will return when their work hath been accomplished, and in an hour camels will be packed in readiness for our journey.”
“Our journey? Dost thou intend that I should accompany thee?” I asked.
“Certainly. To disguise thyself as a female slave, veiled and enshrouded by a haick, is thine only chance of escape. La bodd annak taroóh maaki!” (“You must go with me”) and she sank back again upon her divan, as if the exertion had utterly exhausted her.
“Thou art stronger than when I found thee lying as one dead in the ruins of the great Palace of the White Sultan,” she exclaimed, as she lay stretched among her cushions, with her bright, beautiful eyes looking up to mine. “Dost thou feel well enough to withstand the fatigue of travel?”
“Yes, quite,” I answered. “But ought we not to prepare for flight immediately?”
“There is no need for haste,” she answered. “This is mine own private apartment where none dare enter, so take thine ease, for we must journey far before el maghrib.”
All trace of her agitation had now disappeared, and as we chatted calmly, I asked, “Why didst thou take compassion upon me—a stranger?”