When her father had left her alone Maie lay still, for a time, in deep thought.
“It must be,” she reflected, “that our dear David, in spite of my bribes1, has sold our secret to my father. For tonight, at least, I have lulled2 his suspicions. And he will soon be at the gate to admit Kasam; so I fear nothing. But the little David must not be able to annoy me again.”
With this came a thought whereat she laughed. Rising from her couch the girl went to a tiny cabinet and cautiously unlocked it. She busied herself there for several minutes, at times laughing softly to herself, but with no trace of merriment in the notes. Finally she clapped her hands to summon a maid.
“Bring here one of the slaves,” she commanded.
The girl withdrew, but presently returned alone.
“There are no slaves in the house, my mistress,” she reported.
“Indeed! My father must have taken them with him,” Maie replied. Then, after consideration, she added: “You will do as well, Halima; nay3, perhaps better. Do you know David the Jew?”
“Yes, my mistress.”
“Then get your cloak and seek David out, wherever he may be. And, when you have found him, give to him this casket, Halima, with the greetings of the daughter of the vizier; and tell him it is a token of my faith in him.”
She brought from the cabinet a small box, exquisitely4 enamelled and inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
“Keep it safely concealed5 in your cloak, Halima. It does not lock, but opens by pressing this spring—so!” The lid flew back, disclosing a quantity of gold and gems6 and a silken purse; and after permitting the girl to glance within she closed the cover, snapping it into place. “Now that you have seen the contents, my child, you will not care to open it again. Keep it well fastened until it is in David’s hands.”
The girl promised to obey, and taking the box started at once to perform her mission. It seemed to her a queer hour—the dead of night—to carry a present to a Jew; but the whims8 of Maie were past accounting9 for, and the duty of a slave was to obey without question.
Left to herself, Maie glanced at the hour-glass and hastily caught up the mantle10 which she had discarded the better to display her charms to her father. She wound the robe carelessly about her shoulders, pressed a panel in the wall, and gained egress11 by a narrow stairway to the gardens.
“It is very dark,” she murmured, feeling her way along a path; “but so much the better. My Allison will not need a light to know that it is I!”
Onward12 she crept, turning the angles of the hedges with unerring instinct, until she paused beneath a group of stately siszandras where the shadows were even deeper than elsewhere. But her eyes, growing accustomed to the darkness, soon made out the dim outlines of a stone bench, and she stooped and passed her hands along its length until she discovered that it was vacant.
“He is late,” she whispered; “or perhaps I am a moment early. He will come soon.”
Languidly she reclined upon the bench, her face turned toward the carved pillars that marked the Gate of the Griffins, standing13 but a few paces away like silhouettes14 against the murky15 sky.
After a few minutes’ lapse16 a key clicked in a lock; a stealthy foot-fall reached her ears, and the next moment a man knelt beside her.
“Ah, sweet one!” he whispered, clasping his arms around her yielding form and covering her face with kisses; “again for a few moments I may enjoy paradise with you by my side! I have been very impatient, my Maie, for this hour.”
“Yet you are late, Allison.” She spoke17 his name tenderly, and her broken English rendered the sibilant very charming in his ears.
“I may be a trifle late, little one, for I met several groups of men stealthily creeping through the darkness. I cannot understand why every warrior18 in the town seems abroad at this hour of the night.”
She sat up suddenly, clinging to him.
“Which way did they go?”
&l............