“Fool! it is because of my manhood that I do stoop to it,” said Ithobal angrily.  “Doubtless you think that a mad fancy and naught else drives me to the deed, but it is not so, although in truth my heart—­like yours—­chooses this woman to be my wife and none other.  That fondness I might conquer, but look you, of all things living this lady alone has dared to cross my will, so that to-day even the sentries on their rounds and the savage women in the kraals tell each other of how Ithobal, the great king of an hundred tribes, has been baffled and mocked at by a girl who despises him because his blood is not all white.  Thus I am become a laughing-stock, and therefore I will win her, cost me what it may.”

“And I, king Ithobal, tell you that you will not win her—­no, not if you torture me to death before her eyes.”

“That we shall see,” said the king with a sneer.  Then he called to his guard and added, “Let this man and his companions be taken to the place prepared for them.”

Now Aziel was dragged from the tent and thrust into a wooden cage, such as were used for carrying slaves and women from place to place upon the backs of camels.  His soldiers, who had been taken with him, were thrust also into cages, and, with himself laden upon camels that were waiting, two cages to each camel.  Then a cloth was thrown over them, and, rising to their feet, the camels began to march.

When they had covered a league or more of ground Aziel learned from the motion of the camel upon which he was secured, and the sound of the repeated blows of its drivers, that they were ascending some steep place.  At length they reached the top of it, and were unloaded from the beasts like merchandise, but he could see nothing, for by now the night had fallen.  Then, still in the cages, they were carried to a tent, where food and water were given them through the bars, after which, so weary was Aziel with war, misery and the remains of recent illness, that he fell asleep.

At daybreak he awoke, or rather was awakened, by the sound of a familiar voice, and, looking through his bars, perceived Metem standing before them, guarded but unbound, with indignation written on his face, and tears in his quick eyes.

“Alas!” he cried, “that I should have lived to see the seed of Israel and Pharaoh thus fastened like a wild beast in a den, while barbarians make a mock of him.  Oh!  Prince, it were better that you should die rather than endure such shame.”

“Misfortunes are the master of man, not man of his misfortunes, Metem,” said Aziel quietly, “and in them is no true disgrace.  Even if I had the means to kill myself, it would be a sin; moreover, it might bring another to her death.  Therefore, I await my doom, whatever it may be, with such patience as I can, trusting that my sufferings and ignominy may expiate my crimes in the sight of Him whom I renounced.  But how come you here, Metem?”

“I came under the safe-conduct of Ithobal who gave me leave to visit you, doubtless for some ends of his own.  Have you heard, Prince, that he holds the gates of the city, though as yet no harm has been done to it, and that its inhabitants are crowded within the temple, and upon the heights above; also that in his despair Sakon has fallen on his sword and slain himself?”