“He did not take me.  I was always faithful, Murad.  I love you.  I—­” she stammered.

“It is well,” returned Murad with a grim smile, “and these tears I suppose are because I was too long absent?  It is true I have been some time:  I had much to do, and then I knew I was quite safe, now I had settled all accounts with him.  Come! the caravan is ready; the camels wait for you.”

He dragged her towards the open square, the great square of the window.  Without, the night-flies and the moths danced in the silver beams, the trees rose motionless and stately in the sultry air, the gracious hours moved on with all the tranquil splendour of the Oriental night.  The girl threw her eyes over the sitting figure, unmoved by all the strenuous passions fighting round it.  Wildly, in despairing agony, she stretched out her arms towards it in a vain, unconscious passionate appeal.

The Druze struck them downwards, and gripping her unresisting body more tightly, he leapt from the window to the slight wooden staircase without, and, like a tiger with his prey, crept away stealthily through the silver silence of the rose garden towards the desert.