"He swears he will have you flayed alive," gasped the dwarf; "why should I save you after what you have done to me?"
"Why?" laughed Morgiana. "Listen, Zeyneb. Did Hakem awake after I cut his throat? What hindered me to do the like to you."
Zeyneb hung his head. "It is true," he confessed; "you spared me."
"I spared you," she reëchoed, laughing after her unearthly manner, "not through love—Allah forbid!—but because you were my foster-brother, and faithful to Iftikhar. The Greek is gone—gone forever—praised be the Most High! Iftikhar in his mad pride will go to Antioch, where—and the omens of the smoke never lie—only woe awaits. He casts me away, but I will not leave him. He curses; I will never forsake. I am strong, I can yet save."
"Allah!" cried the dwarf—her spell once more over him—"what do you desire?"
"That you aid me to go to Antioch. You have means and wits. Then, unknown to him, I shall be at Iftikhar's side, to stand betwixt him and the danger."
CHAPTER XXXVIII
HOW RICHARD AND MUSA AGAIN PARTED
Rollo had dropped to a slower pace; at last had halted. Richard had set Mary down on a grassy hummock and gone back to his steed. The great beast was reeking with sweat, panting in strong gusts such as blow from a smithy's bellows. Richard plucked off his outer mantle—long since tattered—and rubbed the steaming flanks and back of the brute; while all the time he patted him, and praised him for having done a deed right worthy of a Christian destrer pacing the steeds of the unbelievers. But it was Mary who rose, and put her fair white arms round black Rollo's neck, and her cheek against the white spot on his forehead.