The Heart of Miranda (Collection)/Zoraka

disposition of the evening was pleasant, but somehow a feeling of restless discontent prevailed upon me. It was as if I had tired of the extravagant picturesqueness of the East. The barbaric interest of the bazaars, the unfamiliar brightness of the streets, the pied and variegated throngs—all these seemed now to pass, as with the distance and seclusion of a stereoscopic vision. I looked down, as it were, upon coloured plates, picked out with shifting scenes, in which I was a stranger with no part. This turbaned mob passed to and fro about its affairs; it held markets, chaffered in the public emporiums, offered solemn greetings; and I myself was admitted to these commercial and polite exchanges. But that was all. The real life of the people lay wide apart from their business appearances day by day. From that I was excluded. Saving for the change of colour and feature it might as well be a cockney quarter of London I was regarding, or the smart round of life upon the Boulevards. This sequestration had come at last to annoy me, and the aspects of the town wore now almost the familiarity of my native suburb. The disappointment settled in monotony; even the novelty of the living had grown stale, and the wine which at first had drunk very strangely and quite agreeably to the palate, was now revealed as merely thin and sour, as like a tenpenny Bordeaux as may be, and not so wholesome.

These reflections occupied me in my chamber in the caravanserai, as I looked forth of the window upon the huge white walls and the green gardens they held so private. The sun had gone down, but his influences were still flaming in the West; a little night-air, soft and soothing, was beginning to stir, and the tamarisks were waving quietly. The spring was still young. Behind such walls as those the lives of these Orientals were exhibited in the fulness of their blood. There such romances as they knew dawned and died; the comedies and tragedies of their passions were enacted there no less than in Bayswater drawing-rooms or Kensington boudoirs. It fretted me to feel that from a journey such as mine had been one might take no more than the knowledge to be thrown from a lantern-slide—the public processions, the investing rags, the sardonic faces of an unknown and passionate race.

I looked across the street below my window to the wall which closed my immediate purview. The figure of a tall man, in the full particulars of native costume, moved slowly, and as it struck me, with an air of stealth, along the little alley. The muezzin had just chanted the call to prayer sonorously from the minaret of a neighbouring mosque. Somehow, quite vaguely, I seemed to recall a previous recognition of this furtive figure; and then, in a moment, I knew what had tickled my memory. It was my custom at this hour, after the long hot day, to sit here at this loophole and look forth upon the street, and now I remembered that this same tall fellow was used to haunt the alley simultaneously upon the fall of the muezzin's voice. I sat up sharply and watched him with a hasty accession of interest. Why, here, maybe, was the very occasion of romance stalking past my doorway, and I unheeding. The fellow stopped before a door in the wall, and, with a surreptitious glance about him, pushed it open and disappeared within. I was feverish with unrest and dissatisfaction, and for some reason the secrecy of the act stirred a pleasant thrill in me. I half rose from my seat, moved by a sudden whim, and paused again. "Why, yes," said I to myself, laughing. "Why not?" My heart pulsed quickly. I was certainly in a way to be roused from my indifference. I put a revolver in my pocket, and, leaving the inn, walked quickly down the street, and, turning into the alley, stood in a few moments hesitating before the door just as my suspicious stranger himself had done.

To my surprise the door was slightly ajar. I was much under the influence of my imagination, but for a second or so I remained with my hand upon the woodwork, while my heart beat faster. Upon what high adventure was I at last bound? Or was it to end as a commonplace blunder, in smiles, bows, apologies, and perhaps a cup of coffee and a cigarette? The door moved noiselessly back, and I entered; the next moment it fell to behind me heavily, and I was in a dark passage. As my eyes adjusted themselves to the change I discerned a little way ahead a soft dull glow, as from a light piercing through thick curtains. Feeling upon the wall, I advanced towards this, and found myself at last upon the threshold of a room shut off from the passage, as I had supposed, by rich hangings. The chamber itself was empty, but by many marks I took it for the private apartment of a woman. Entering with some exaltation of spirit I was proceeding to make further explorations, when all of a sudden a footstep sounded at my back, and, turning, I beheld a large man of middle age standing in the curtained doorway. We regarded each other in silence, for indeed I was a good deal taken aback, but presently he spoke.

"You are welcome," he said, "I have been waiting for you."

His voice was without emotion of any kind, nor had I any clue to what I was welcomed. Save for a certain excited light in his eyes he might have been the polite host his words would bespeak him.

"I am glad, sir," said I, making him a bow, "to have blundered thus upon your hospitality. "

He made no response to my salutation, but clapped his hands abruptly. So immediately as to suggest that they had been in hiding near by, a couple of stalwart fellows jumped into the room, and ere I could divine their intention had their hands upon me. My revolver lay useless in my pocket, but I struggled for a moment ineffectually in their clutches, and then ceasing, indignantly demanded of the master what this meant.

"Is this the way," I asked, "to treat a guest, who has trespassed by inadvertence in your house?"

He made no reply, but in a voice, now harsh and sounding with triumph, bade his men bring me after him. I was conducted through corridors out upon a court, which had plainly once possessed some magnificence, but had now fallen into disorder, the fountain alone remaining of its ancient splendour; and thence through a maze of passages into a large room, decorated with florid designs and barely furnished, as is the custom in these parts. Here, the master of the house seated himself upon a divan, and surveyed me for some moments with a curious look of savage satisfaction in his eyes, while I, in the hands of my guards, reviewed my position with amazement and alarm. In a little time the man clapped his hands again, and there entered presently a tall black, richly dressed, in whom I could not but recognise the chief eunuch of that household. He stared at me as if in great surprise, and then hurriedly approaching his master, whispered a few words. His looks betokened bewilderment, and indeed the effect of his communication served to derange my captor also.

"What is this?" he said harshly. "Dog, do you lie to me?" and glowered upon the black.

The eunuch salaamed humbly. "It is true, lord of our lives," he answered, "we have already captured the other."

His master frowned, but recovering, looked sardonically at me. "Bring them both," he commanded, "and the woman shall decide between them."

With that the eunuch disappeared, and when he returned he was accompanied by a commotion. I set eyes first upon the very man whom I had thus foolishly pursued into what I now began to perceive must be some trap, and he, like myself, was in the custody of servants. But after him followed the black, dragging rather than supporting the body of a very handsome woman with black eyes and flowing hair. She was no sooner entered than she threw herself before the divan and embarked upon a passion of tears and entreaties. So far as I could understand her language, for her voice was broken with sobs, she protested against some suspicion the man had taken of her, and pleaded at once for his justice and his mercy. And then it was that I began to gather some dim hints of my own predicament. Zoraka, for so she called herself in her piteous appeals, was the wife of this Hassan, as she named him. The fellow who was in custody with myself had plainly been her lover, and, as I now conceived, I had been so unfortunate as to make my silly venture upon the very day on which Hassan in his suspicion had chosen to lay a snare for his wife's paramour. Into that net two had fallen. The notion was so ludicrous, when I considered it, that I could have laughed out had it not been for the tragic consequences that seemed pending. It would manifestly be no jest to stand before this creature's jealous fury. The woman had cast no glance upon us when she entered, and lay now in a grovelling attitude of supplication before her lord. To her prayers he paid not the slightest heed, and, at last, with a scowl pushed her from him with his foot. At which, appearing to understand that all was lost, she withdrew herself quickly and got upon her feet quite calmly. The sudden change in her demeanour startled me, used as I was to the shifting passions of the race. She stood impassive for a while as though resigned to her fate, and then, her gaze falling upon me, stared at me in sullen wonder. Glutted of his victim's miserable anticipations, Hassan now stirred on his couch. With Oriental phlegm he lighted a long pipe, and addressing my fellow-prisoner demanded in harsh tones what he was doing there. The man made some reply, in which moroseness mingled with terror, and then it was my turn.

"Sir," said I, "I know nothing of this woman or of this man. I am an innocent Feringhi who wandered through your doorway by mistake. I demand my release, or my Government will exact a heavy price at your hands."

A grim smile lit up his sour features, and he turned to the woman, Zoraka. "Accursed one," he said, "which of these is your lover, or are your passions so insatiable that you have taken both to your traitorous bosom? "

Zoraka shook her head. "They are strangers, my lord," she returned. "Why must I stand before strangers with my naked face?"

All the time her eyes watched me curiously. Hassan darted a terrible look of hate upon her.

"We will make sure of all three," he said, and made a sign to his eunuch.

The negro drew from a scabbard in the folds of his robe a huge scimitar, handling which in a familiar way he approached the woman. Her eyes still dwelt attentively upon me, and it was not until the black touched her roughly upon the shoulder that she seemed to be aware of his presence by her side. She started ever so slightly, and, glancing at the shining sword, shivered perceptibly. Then again, as though drawn by an irresistible magnet, her gaze returned to me. The menace of these proceedings struck me as so monstrous that for all I had heard of the cruel rigours of the harem law, I could not fully realise that any tragedy was proposed. I met her eyes, and in mine, I know, was a deep look of compassion for this beautiful creature. At this exchange of our glances she smiled softly, and turning slightly about, regarded the black with curling lips and flattened nostrils. Suddenly Hassan leapt from his seat and broke into the most frantic exhibition of brutal anger I have ever seen in a man. All his show of indifference was gone. He cast up his hands, with clenched fists, and raved like a maniac, denouncing Zoraka in the vilest terms, calling curses upon her future life, and blackening the character of her ancestors. The woman never flinched, and when his vituperation ceased from lack of breath, she addressed him.

"My lord," she said, with a certain dignity in her low and measured voice, "you hold the keys of Life and Death in this household. It is your will that I bare my neck here to Death upon this spot. Allah decrees it, and the Prophet assents. Think not that it is with any regret that I leave this world. My heart has been too full. I have been your plaything, the vehicle of your passion.

"We women," she cried with rising spirit, "are the prisoners of the harem. It is our fortune. We are sold from out our birthright; we pass under foreign hands; we are the non-entities of pleasure. And lo, there is among us not even the little liberty of desire. If hope sparkle in my eyes and the light shine on my soul, whence have I offended against you? You cannot hush the throbbing of my heart; it rises under my bosom in the darkness of my chamber. As for these men, I know nothing of them. The sword is in your hands. Let them go."

She faced him with heaving breast but with a quiet face which won my admiration. But the effect of her rebuke upon Hassan was indescribable. His black face blanched with rage. He ran down the steps between them and seizing the scimitar from the eunuch made as though to strike off her head at a blow. I moved involuntarily, but my gaolers held me tight, and it seemed that the bloody scene must be enacted before my eyes, while I was powerless to move a hand. But as suddenly Hassan paused and withheld the knife from the stroke.

"No," said he, with a malign contortion of his features, "she shall be sprinkled first with the blood of her lovers. Bring the dogs forward."

We were hustled forward by our guards and brought within a pace or two of the ruffian, and Zoraka; once more she shot a glance at me, and once more I met it with a thrill of pity. The black took the scimitar from his master and drew near my companion. Almost for the first time I examined him closely. He was a fine-looking fellow, of some position, I judged, and bore himself very well in that supreme moment. His complexion was overcast with a sallow shade of fear, but he made neither sound nor sign, submitting himself to the butchers like a frightened sheep. The transaction had a dreadful fascination for me; it drew my eyes. I was entirely incapable of considering my own situation. The black came behind him and with a rude movement of his brawny arm twisted the man's head forward, so as to leave the neck bare and free. Then he gripped his scimitar and swung it in the air. I could not refrain a glance at Zoraka; but she stood motionless, watching with wide eyes, only a little tense contraction of the nostrils speaking to her emotion. The executioner raised his sword and a flash spread into a broad shaft of light. A sort of groan started from my lips, but Zoraka was dumb. Whether he had had instructions beforehand and knew his part in the devilish piece of cruelty I cannot say, but suddenly, and when to my eyes all was over and the awful bearded head already rolling upon the floor, the black's arms stopped dead, and the sword was arrested on the very skin of the man's neck. The eunuch looked at his master, and in obedience to a nod left the wretched, trembling creature and approached me.

I cannot tell how it was, but my mind grew lively all at once with a terrible illumination. In a flash I saw the meaning of this brutal scene; it was designed to betray the real lover by wresting a display of emotion from Zoraka. And with that a still more fearful thought rushed in upon me. I felt that I knew now with what purpose she had interrogated me so fully with her eyes. Her looks had been directed solely upon me; never for a second had she noticed her lover. It was upon me she desired to throw suspicion, in the hope to save the man she loved, even though she herself were sacrificed to her husband's wrath. I know not to what extent this manœuvre had been observed, but in the new horror of my discovery I feared the worst. And I was now to suffer the same trial as my fellow. For one instant the blood, rushing to my brain, blinded me. I saw Zoraka through a mist, and bestowed upon her a look of reproach and repugnance. Then I engaged in a fierce, futile struggle with my captors. Their arms pinioned me, and I was flung forward, helpless in their grasp. If I remember aright, I had just one wild animal desire to throw myself on Hassan and tear him in shreds, and then a numb apathy succeeded, and I was conscious only of waiting for Zoraka's cry. I heard dimly the scimitar hissing in the air, and simultaneously it seemed felt the wind and an edge across my neck; and then the scream of agony which I had anticipated. Next instant my guards pulled me back, and I was face to face with Zoraka, looking into my eyes with a genuine expression of terror. Was it possible, I vaguely wondered, that this cry had been wrung from her out of a real pity for an innocent victim? But then recalling her indifference, when her lover was at stake, I dismissed the thought as absurd, and fell back upon my previous conviction of her cunning.

It was merely death that I expected now, and it was a short sharp death I prayed for. Yet it was horrible that I should have to undergo again the tortures of that lingering passage. But Hassan was silent and issued no order. He came down from the daîs and passed me by, searching my face with a swift puzzled look; then he proceeded to scrutinise my companion also. It was plain he was in doubt. Could it be that he, too, had a suspicion of Zoraka's trick? I came to the conclusion that this was so, for turning to the black he gave orders that we should be kept in custody till the morrow, adding with a filthy remark about his wife, that if the real lover were not disclosed by then, she should take both upon her bosom into Paradise. I daresay he had designed some horrid form of death for the paramour, which made his identification a matter of anxiety; for on that ground alone can I explain his reluctance to despatch us all three by the sword.

I was removed into a small chamber, quite devoid of furniture, and with high-barred windows as like a cell as might be, save that the pure air of the gardens entered in wafts. And here I fell into a grave consideration of my peril and remorse for my foolhardiness. Since I had wanted the romance of the East, why here was more than my share of it at last, and very grubby and abominable it was. I could be content, I thought, after this, if there were any after this, with the magic-lantern and stereoscopic views of Oriental life. A Kodak was better than a dungeon, and however picturesque they sounded, mediæval conditions were not suited to a Victorian man. They had deprived me of my revolver, but had left me free, trusting, no doubt, to he solid masonry of the house. Yet I wandered to and fro for hours, debating the possibilities of my escape, and framing a hundred plans for scaling the wall and breaking through the window. By-and-bye, however, resignation settled upon me, as the hopelessness of these schemes was slowly revealed, and by this time, feeling quite worn out with my anxieties and the lateness of the hour, I fell asleep upon the bare boards of the floor.

Some time afterwards I was awakened by a touch on my shoulder, and sat up quickly. A soft melodious voice breathed in my ear.

"Hush!" it said, "O Feringhi, be silent, lest the guards upon the courtyard hear you."

"Who are you?" I cried, sleep struggling with my interest.

"It is I, Zoraka," said the voice, and indeed I recognized it now. "It is I, O Light of my Eyes."

I do not know that the expression fell upon very intelligent ears, for the fact was that I was bewildered with her presence there. "How came you here?" I asked in astonishment to find this victim, but lately designed and destined to death with me, thus moving free with all her liberties.

Zoraka laughed softly. "There is none that can keep me from my beloved," she whispered in her honeyed voice. "They encircled me, but I deceived them. They sleep soundly. Did the fool think to bind me and to still my heart? Listen how it beats for thee."

She was warming my hand gently, and now I became aware of her action, and there dawned upon me the significance of this strange visit. I was suddenly overwhelmed with the revelation. With the remarkable abruptness of Eastern passions, Zoraka had transferred her affections to me, moved by some unaccountable whim. The thought had never for an instant occurred to me, and now I sat silent, with my hand in hers, suffering her warm touch, and revolving in confusion this new development in my fortunes. There was a sound from the next room, and Zoraka clutched me tight. "Hush!" she murmured, with her finger to her lips, "we must leave, my beloved. Let us depart into the deep night and be gone. Stay!"

She moved quickly to the door, and as she passed from me the moonlight streamed through the window upon her lithe and graceful figure, stirring in me a curious sensation. She stood listening for a moment, and then beckoned me with her hand. I rose and followed her. The latch clicked softly, and we were in a gloomy passage. She moved forward, and I pursued her noiseless footsteps, traversing many silent rooms and ill-lit corridors, until at length we came out into a place where the light was clearer and I could smell the fresh air of a garden. Here she stopped and pointed to an open door.

"Go forth," she whispered, "and wait for me. I will return. We must go armed"; and with a swish of her robes was gone.

I walked out into the garden, still under the spell of my amazement; the night was thick with stars and a yellow moon; the soft fragrance of earth was in my nostrils. Here was the way to safety; the open garden lay before reaching to the lane; I was free.

Suddenly I heard, piercing from some inner chamber and muffled by distance, a sharp wailing cry.

The sound arrested me. It rose, a thin high wail, and died without echoes in the night. For a time I stood listening for a repetition of the cry, but none came, and silence presided alike in the house and in the garden, save for the breaths of air that stirred among the leaves. That discomfortable shriek awoke conjecture in me instantly, and under the shadow of the arbutus impulses and emotions divided me. Away, at the foot of the garden, the stars danced lightly in the waters of the bay, inviting me to flight. The term of that intestine conflict in my thoughts was considerable, but in the end I came out of my shelter and retraced my way back into the house. I had an indefinite sense of pleasure in my magnanimity, mingling simultaneously with a feeling that I was under an obligation of honour not to desert Zoraka.

The house was still and dark as upon my journey forth. When I came to consider, my adventure was in no wise heroic, but merely fatuous. I had no manner of notion where Zoraka lay, nor indeed if she had not been already sacrificed to the ferocious passions of her husband. That might have been the real significance of her anguished scream. And even if I had all uncertainties determined, my quest was no more reasonable. To snatch her from the centre of her guards and bring into safety—the idea was preposterous. Yet in a little I should have been quite at a loss to retreat, if I had desired to do so, for I was soon involved in a labyrinth of darkened chambers. Passage opened into passage, and corridor succeeded corridor. I walked with great secrecy, and listened with both ears alert. At one time I caught near-by the plash of a fountain, and guessed that I must be somewhere within the vicinity of the interior court. If that were so, I had wandered a long way from the garden. It was strange that I encountered no one; the house seemed wrapt in the quiet of the tombs. Once in my passage through a room I heard the slow and even noise of sleepers, but no person barred my way. My progress was necessarily difficult, for I had little light to guide me, and must for the most part grope my way through blackness. I began to despair at last of finding any exit from this gloomy prison. Zoraka insensibly faded from my imagination; the hunt for her seemed supremely foolish with no clue to direct me. And I had now the oppression of my own fresh peril upon me. It was upon these reflections that I came at length into a large chamber, which sounded bare and vacant to my tread. Fingering on the wall I moved carefully round it, in search of the further doorway, for the apartments in these houses invariably communicated with one another. My chagrin reached its height when I was unable to discover any door; nor was this the worst, for upon retiring the way I had come, I found that the door by which I had entered had completely vanished. The darkness, I suppose, confused me; the chamber was probably of an unusual shape; at any rate I seemed to make the circuit a dozen times without success. I was incarcerated within those solid walls as securely as if the bars of a prison held me. As I made this desperate comment to myself, I stumbled over a couch, and putting forth my hands to save a fall was flung heavily upon some human body that lay thereon.

I withdrew hastily, and in a whirl of fears; but no start or exclamation followed, and I recalled now, as I stood, thick with apprehensions, that the face had been cold and dry to the touch. This with the curious stillness reassured me that my terror was groundless; it was a corpse that reposed in the calm silence of that darkness. The thought informed me with a new feeling of distaste. A strange impulse led me to stretch out my hand again, and touch the body in a gingerly fashion. I was conscious that my fingers were wetted and cold, and I drew off sharply with a shudder. In my mind speculations, which were almost convictions, broke vaguely and unpleasantly. I was interrupted in my horrid considerations by the sound of feet, the first sound of positive life that had yet reached me. I fled in haste, and by sheer good fortune ran into a heavy curtain that draped the wall hard by. I had scarcely wrapped myself in the folds of this when a light burst into the room, and two ill-looking fellows entered and proceeded to the couch. The light illumined the dead man's face, and showed me that my conjecture had been right—Zoraka's lover lay there, stretched out in the ugly peace of death. Save for a sinister contraction of the nostrils, and the protrusion of a yellow tooth above the underlip, the countenance was underanged by his violent end; and only a streak of blood stained the beard. I will confess that I dared not look upon this scene without emotion; the accomplishment of the tragedy persisted in my thoughts and challenged me with its menace. I had few doubts at this moment that Zoraka too had perished, and I, fool that I was, had hazarded my chance of safety almost beyond retrieval.

The servants raised the body without any signs of interest, and carrying it between them toiled across the room towards the door, which I now perceived was hidden behind the arras. When they had disappeared I followed furtively. Almost the first step I took, I tripped upon some hard substance on the floor, and stooping discovered to my satisfaction that it was a knife. Here at any rate was a useful ally in my predicament. Concealing it about me I pursued after the men, for in them, it appeared, lay my only prospect of finding a way out of the house. But here fell my second surprise. I maintained my course at a considerable distance from the fellows, who had little chance of detecting me from the noise they made under their burden, and presently saw them push open a door in the corridor and disappear. I hastened my steps, and just as I reached the door a wild shriek rang out of the silence.

This, then was news of Zoraka; but what news? Eagerly, and with trepidant heart, I thrust open the door behind its hangings, and peered into the room. It was well lighted. The two men had come to a halt and laid their burden upon the floor. But it was not upon these my gaze lingered, but upon the tall figure of the Nubian eunuch, who was contemplating with an indifferent and cruel smile the prostrate body of Zoraka. She lay upon her back upon the mosaic, with her arms flung out, and for a moment (so devilish did the scene present itself to my imagination) I was on the point of throwing myself upon the black, knife in hand. But this impulse passed, and the next second, at a loud signal from him, a fourth man entered, bearing a large sheet of sacking. With a gathering sense of dread I stared from him to Zoraka's body, and as my eyes lit upon her, I noticed her bosom slowly rising, as if with a resumption of life. It was a relief to find that she was not dead, as I had imagined, though I could not but conjecture that some outrage was intended. I was soon to be enlightened as to the black's purpose, for at his instructions the three ruffians proceeded to bind the two bodies together, the living body of Zoraka with the stiff and clammy corpse of her hapless lover. The act seemed a hideous profanation, but I was helpless before this abominable company, even though I feared that worse was yet to fall. Before my eyes the living and the dead were enwrapped together in the sacking and secured with thick cords. If they had been undivided in their lives, I could imagine Hassan sneering, so surely should they remain unseparated in death; and she at least was free to awake upon her lover's bosom in Paradise.

Zoraka had stirred slightly but had not recovered consciousness ere she was lashed in this contumelious bundle. When the work was complete the party, headed by the black, moved out of the apartment, the three men with the sacking supported between them. Concealing myself in a dark corner of the passage I watched the procession; it passed me laboriously, and, after a safe interval, I slipped out and followed. This time I was certain of gaining the open air, for I knew well enough the destination of those poor victims. The ancient order of this venerable kingdom suffers no change, and the bay now, as ever, buries its secrets fathoms deep. In this fashion we came presently upon the garden, and once more the delicious breath of heaven animated my lungs. But now that my private fears were allayed, again my sympathy turned to the unfortunate woman designed for this atrocious end. I followed still, until the company reached the base of the garden and the bay. A low wall here set a bound to the dark water, and mounting upon this the four came to a halt, with their monstrous package resting upon the stone. I watched with an unnatural eagerness from the cover of the thick bushes below. At a signal from the eunuch the others raised the sacking, and swaying and swinging for a moment upon the ledge, then swiftly flung their arms seaward. With a great thud and a splash the bodies struck the water, while the spray danced and scattered in the air, some drops falling heavily upon the foliage about me. The ruffians lingered for a few seconds, and then, descending, tramped back towards the house. Hassan was avenged.

It was an impulse that actuated me, for until that moment I had hardly entertained a distant hope of saving Zoraka. But the notion took sudden hold on me, and no sooner were they melted into the darkness than I scrambled upon the wall, and cast a hasty glance downwards. The level of the bay was some three feet below me, and the black waters rolled and plunged against the wall with a sucking sound. Instantly I dived headlong into the depths. I had always been a strong swimmer, accustomed to long spells of endurance under water, but as the tide was high I had some misgivings in that black abyss whether I should succeed in struggling down to the floor of the sea. The current struck cool and heavy against my face; the darkness was profound, and all the noises of an inferno grated in my ears. I groped at a venture with both hands. … The pressure upon my brain tightened; I could hold my breath no longer; and I was throwing up my arms for a plunge towards the surface when my foot kicking in the vacancy struck upon something more solid. In a moment more I was clinging to the sacking with one hand, while with the other I fumbled for my knife. To this hour I have no definite remembrance of what followed. The intense weight upon my brain seemed to shove me deeper into the sea, while at the same time I was conscious of holding fast by the cords to keep myself from floating to the surface. My head was bursting; I felt strangled; if I had had my senses clear I am sure that I would have abandoned the desperate task. But the very numbness of my wits made me stick like a leech to the sacking. I can recall my fingers pressing upon human flesh, which yet seemed like nothing human. Visions of eyeless skulls floated through my mind. Whitened bones and monstrous evil fishes appeared to surround me. I had a dim sense of collision with some body which turned upon me and buffeted me. And then I knew no more until I was upon the surface of the waters, with the ringing of a thousand noises in my head, the light of stars and a calm moon, and something that lay dead and heavy across my arm.

Zoraka came to very slowly, as though her spirit obeyed its recall with reluctance. By this time the moon was vanishing over the city, and the grey mists of dawn were creeping over the bay. A spasm contracted her bosom, and she emitted a long thin breath; leisurely she opened her eyes and looked at me.

"Beloved!" she murmured faintly.

Her eyes dwelt languorously upon me, and with a gentle movement of her arms she reached for my neck.

"It is Paradise, then," she whispered, and lay upon the sward, contemplating the dwindling stars of heaven with vague wistfulness. Kneeling I regarded her. Now that the circumstances had been rescued from tragedy a reaction rose in my mind. Something in Zoraka repelled me, something, it may be, derived from the association with that immutable smiling corpse. I could not wholly conceive her as a living woman; she seemed tainted and defiled of death, and by the embrace of that detestable body. I watched the dark beauty growing in her face, and the handsome suggestions of her dripping, white-robed figure with dispassionate curiosity, even with distaste. Her eyes shifted from point to point of the vault and drooped upon me; she sat up weakly, with a start, and clung suddenly to me, with a sigh.

"Star of my night," she said. "Thou wert with me even in death. Kiss me, my heart, kiss me."

I shrank away and softly loosened the hands upon my neck.

"Hush," I said, "this is no time for ill-considered passion. You have not been locked in the embrace of death. Pray rather to your God for peace."

She stared at me reproachfully. "What is this thou sayest?" she asked with pleading tenderness. "I have been in the arms of death? Indeed, it is true. Surely I have knocked upon the gates of Paradise, and heard the wings of the houris. But now, behold, love, it is in thine arms I lie, and thou art my life. What has this touch of death mattered, since it has brought my life to me? Listen, the bulbul sings in the laurels! Of what is he singing, beloved, save of thee and me?"

She laid her head upon my shoulder, crooning softly like a child, but the chill and damp of her wet garments entered into my blood, and I shivered.

"Nay, offer up your prayers," I said, "to Mahomet and to Allah. Allah-il-allah! Shall one who has just come forth from the jaws of death through God's mercy turn upon Him and wrong His laws? You are the wife of a man given under sacred ordinances. Are you a child that you should defy His goodness and challenge His loving kindness?"

"A wife?" she cried on a higher note. "I was sold into the bondage of the harem. Why may I not deliver myself? I have been rejected and cast forth. I am dead. There, O Feringhi, lies poor Zoraka, the wife of Hassan, deep among the weeds and fishes of the sea."

"You deceive yourself with fond hopes," I answered. "The obligations of the world enwrap you still, like the chains upon a slave."

"I have broken them, I have derided them. Nought can bind me now," she cried proudly. She rose to her feet and tottering to me once more encircled me with her arms. "I love thee, Feringhi; yea, though it be a sin, and accursed of Allah, to desire a Giaour, I love thee, I desire thee; the heat of my passion burns in my body. See, it laps up these dripping garments. I lay my arm upon thy cheek. Mark how it is afire. Press upon my bosom, and feel the flame that consumes my heart. I am devoured with my love of thee. Of what account then are the pains and tribulations of hell with thee beside me? Yea, though I forfeit Paradise and the favour of Allah, yet will I love thee and be thine."

I shook my head. "It is impossible," I said, "I am a Feringhi from over the sea. My way lies apart. I am here for a moment of the sunshine, like the swallow. The meshes of your life enclose me. You and I may speak through the bars of a prison."

She started from me. "You do not love me," she cried fiercely. "You would pass from me into the liberties of the world, and I must keep my prison? Is this face not beautiful? And yet it must fade and decay behind the veil. Have not the lines of my body moved you, and still must they wither in the shroud of these garments? Must I lie all day within the harem walls, and must the song sing in my heart without an end? Oh my beloved!" and she threw herself upon me again. "I am thine and thou art mine. The Giaour is fashioned of stone; his heart is of marble; but it is stained and pierced with veins of blood. Thou lovest me and I love thee. Let us leave this place."

She spoke in a soft wailing voice, and though I had grown weary of her importunities and the clasp of her warm fingers gave me no thrill, I could not restrain a sense of pity in my soul. She was an outcast from the harem, accounted dead, and it seemed that I was the sole person left in her world. I was greatly perplexed, for it was plain that I could not leave her there, abandoned to the ruthless hand of Hassan. And yet I could conceive no means for her disposal. While I was deep in these awkward meditations, uppermost in which lay the necessity of an immediate departure, a low and quiet footfall sounded in the garden. Zoraka with her head upon my bosom heard nothing, but I, looking up, saw to my horror the burly form of Hassan approaching in the dim light. We stood in thick shadow, and he did not remark us, nor, indeed, do I think he was in any condition to do so. For he walked solemnly and slowly, as a man bent with sorrow, and mounted upon the little wall overlooking the bay without a glance upon either side. Here he remained for some moments motionless. The twilight of the dawn illumined his features indistinctly; the water, now grey and wan, washed with regular sounds against the wall. Hassan's eyes were troubled. The diabolic passion had vanished from his face, and it wore now even a patient melancholy dignity. Fearful, I held Zoraka closer to me, where she nestled without a word; but it was upon Hassan that my gaze was fixed. He stood silent, the breeze blowing his robes about, and then slowly bowing his head gave vent to an inarticulate cry of great emotion. The man's abasement touched me, and in the influence of his presence I was not aware that Zoraka had raised her head and was looking at me. Suddenly her arms relaxed about me, and she followed the direction of my glance. A short wailing scream broke from her, and whirling giddily upon her feet, she slipped and staggered into the open light. At the noise Hassan turned quickly, and his face changed rapidly; the expression upon it wore swiftly round from wonder to terror, and from terror to delight. He leaped from the wall, and ran hastily towards her; and in a second she was folded in his arms, and he was caressing her with endearing tenderness. Zoraka stood silent, swaying upon her feet, her eyes eloquent of fear and repulsion. He drew her closer, murmuring affectionately. It was plain that he had a passionate attachment to his unfaithful wife.

The interest of this scene held me spellbound, regardless of my own situation. It was not until Zoraka, folded helplessly in his embrace, turned her face towards me, that I recalled my own danger. I feared that she would call upon me, make some appeal to my love against this violation of her own person. Indeed her eyes, unseen of Hassan, fell upon me mutely, pleading and yearning, like the eyes of a beaten dog. She opened her lips, but no sound came. Hassan drew her gently with him down the sward, and her feet mechanically obeyed his impulse. Within my coign of shadow I watched them go, and, as she faded into the twilight of the morning, it seemed to me that once more she turned and implored me with those great and shining eyes.