"She knows. And she accepts."
"That is well. Tell her I can leave only this message: 'I have from the hour I left her carried myself as became a Christian cavalier. I have prayed for grace to live and grace to die. I know that after the first pain is past she will wonder why she ever had love for the rude Frankish baron, when she has the favor of the most gallant emir, the most courtly prince, the purest-hearted man, Christian or Moslem.' For though you cannot yearn for her with the fire that burns in me, I can trust you never to let her grow hungry for love."
"Yes: but—" Musa laughed a little nervously—"but if the city is taken? What of me? Will you lead me in fetters back to St. Julien?"
Richard saw the implication.
"No, by St. George," he protested, "you shall not die! I will go to every friend, and I have many, and beseech them if we conquer to spare you."
Musa only laughed again.
"And where you would scorn to live, I must hold back?"
Both were silent; for they saw the inevitable issue. Then Musa spoke again: "Again I say it, what is doomed, is doomed. We are in the Most High's hands. So long as you bear your St. Julien shield I shall know you, and if we meet no blows shall pass. But wear a closed helmet. I quaked when I saw you mocking the arrows in your open casque."
Both were standing. There was nothing more to say. Richard's heart was very sad, but Musa comforted.
"No fears—is not Allah over us both? Will He not dispose all aright,—to-night,—to-morrow,—forever,—though we may not see the path?"