"My darts?" asked she.
"Yes, truly,—these," and he laid his fingers on her eyes.
"No," was the answer, and she shook him off. "Listen: my eyes are my sorrow,—first, because they captured the Baron de St. Julien, who deserves no such bondage;" then, more gravely, "next, because they nigh undid Louis de Valmont; and last—O Richard! still I have mighty fear of Iftikhar Eddauleh; he is seeking your life, and God knows whether his unholy passion for me is still in his heart! Swear, swear to me, Richard, that rather with your own hands you will take my life than suffer me to fall into that man's power. He is Moslem, but on that account I do not hate him; yet death were better than to be his bride!"
Richard was accustomed to these changing flashes of gay and grave; but he knew there was no common ring of entreaty in Mary's last words, and he answered very soberly:—
"Heart of my heart, I am here in all my strength, with Trenchefer at my side, and around are thousands of good Christian knights. When they are all slain, and I also, then you may fear Iftikhar Eddauleh. Till then, think of likelier things to dread."
Mary was silent, watching the stars for a moment, then replied:—
"You say well, Richard, you are very strong. I am proud of you. Yet I have a strange fear that all your strength cannot shield me from Iftikhar. But no more of my folly,—perchance I am moonstruck. Let me go to the tent, to say one prayer to the Holy Mother to keep you safe to-morrow, and then to sleep, to dream how happy we shall be when we go back to France."
So he kissed her; and when the flaps of the tent had closed behind her and her maids, he called Hossein.
"Good fellow, to-morrow we expect battle. To-day you have been a gallant guard of the princess. Remain by her to-morrow; defend her with your life. As I live, if you do your duty, reward shall not fail."
"Cid," answered the Arab, kissing the Baron's feet, "I hear and obey. I swear, on my head, no unfriendly hand shall touch your very noble wife."