"I can style you no otherwise," was the reply; "for so you are. Punish my disobedience. I can bear much."
There was a little table at hand; on it stood a rock-crystal goblet and a silver cooler filled with snow-water and rose sherbet.
"Mary Kurkuas," said Iftikhar, controlling himself by a great effort, and holding up the goblet, "think not I seek the deeds of mad passion and violence. My power? The might that flashes in your eyes were a myriad times more! Love? Yes, truly; I would have your lips seek mine, as two doves flit to the same nest. See! A pledge!—by the great angel Israfil, at whose trumpet the dead shall spring for judgment, I swear: I will do you no hurt! nothing! I will teach you to love me, until Constantinople, and Sicily, and France shall be as a forgotten dream, and of your own free will you shall be mine own, till Allah cut us asunder."
He held high the goblet.
"To Mary Kurkuas, fairest of women!" he cried, drank, bowed low, and was gone, leaving Mary with Hakem the eunuch.
The heavy tapestries in the doorway closed noiselessly. Mary stood gazing half stupidly at Hakem and the maids. Then at last the eunuch spoke, his imperturbable smile swelling to a fulsome grin.
"O my little birdling, what friends shall we not become! How sweetly shall we pass the days together!"
Had his words been hot irons, he could not have affected Mary more. In a trice she had sprung toward him, her eyes flashing flame. She was in poise and voice the great princess of the house of Kurkuas, born to rule. "Toad!" came across her teeth, "did I bid you speak? Out of my sight, you and these wenches, or as I live—"
"Mercy, gracious Citt, gracious mistress!" began Hakem, throwing up his hands and rolling his eyes, for he knew that he faced his match. "You are travel-worn; your dress—"