"Do you disobey before my face?" retorted the grand prior.
The answer came when Morgiana leaped to her feet.
"Away, away, hound of Eblees! Away, away, begotten of the sheytans! Get you gone, or even I shall curse you!"
Iftikhar doubted his ears. Never had Morgiana reviled him thus.
"Silence; my will is law!" And he struck her with his open palm on her mouth. Struck once, then recoiled, for a flame of wrath flashed with the red flush on Morgiana's face, such as the Egyptian had never seen before. Now he saw, and drew back. Morgiana spoke very slowly, sign of deepest anger.
"Strike—strike—again! and by the Great Name of Allah, I swear I will bide my time, and murder you in your bed."
And Iftikhar, man of passion and blood, felt his own blood creeping chill. Half he felt a knife at his throat. His answer died on his lips. Morgiana was speaking rapidly now:—
"Look on the Greek, Iftikhar Eddauleh! Look on the Greek. Do you know what pain is, and agony, beyond your conceiving? See it there—see it there—and tremble! For I say to you, every tear that Mary, the Star of the Greeks, shall shed, every drop her torn heart bleeds, is reckoned against your name in the great book of Allah. Yes; and you, Iftikhar, shall pay the price—the price—the price—through the long years of eternity. Therefore tremble, for earth and sea shall be confounded ere the All-Just forget one pang, one deed of darkness!"
Iftikhar tore the dagger from his belt. He had words at last now.
"You are mad. I will kill you!"