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Sancho, trembling violently, was drawn irresistibly after her, partly fascinated by her calm strength, partly influenced by the soft fingers and whispered prattle of Pascherette, who strove to set him aflame with mention of some of the wonders he was to see.
"Prove to me that I have heard that which is untrue, and I give you my answer at the hour you demanded it at noon." "If thou remain here, the proof shall be shown thee," she replied, dark with passion. Not yet had she quite seen through the cunning of Pascherette. And a growing tumult beyond the trees warned her of greater stress at hand, she had no more time to spare in argument with Pearse.
In her hand she held a cat-o'-nine-tails a dainty, vicious, splendid instrument of terror formed of plaited human hair of as many shades as thongs, studded with nuggets of gold instead of lead and none the less terrible for that set in a cunningly carved handle of ivory. And as Milo entered, she held the whip aloft in a quivering hand, and cried to Pascherette: "Speak, or I flay thee, traitor!
"Well, slave?" she cried, and Milo started. Never had she used that tone to him. "Sultana, I thought thou wert alone," he replied, haltingly. "I have brought Pascherette to thee for forgiveness." "I forgive? Pish! What care I for thy chit? Take her where ye will, and trouble me not with such trash. Out, now! Let me not see her face again, and I care not what ye do with her. But haste.
Dolores smiled whimsically, for she was too wise to be ignorant of the fact that such men as were in that schooner must first be caught before they might be commanded. Yet the giant's plan suggested another to her. "Hear my plan," she said. "That chit Pascherette she's a dainty minx! Does she swim?" "Like a conger, Sultana!"
Up the cliff they followed Milo, Pascherette running ahead and looking backward ever and again with a seductive gesture of invitation; and in good time they stood before the council hall, the loitering pirates staring at them wonderingly, and from them to the graceful white schooner just then entering the narrow channel. "Enter!" said Milo, and stood aside at the open door.
When the pleasure yacht, Feu Follette, came that way, she sent Milo and her maid, Pascherette, to decoy Rupert Venner and his guests, Craik Tomlin and John Pearse, to the island.
"Pascherette!" he whispered with a dry sob. "Little golden one, speak to thy Milo. Speak, and forgive!" The octoroon gave no sign of life, and the giant dropped her hand and gently raised her pallid face. His lips sought hers in a passionate kiss, long and yearning; and slowly her eyelids fluttered and opened.
Thy ship is a petty thing." "Now, by Heaven, Venner, he has you there!" laughed Tomlin, never ceasing for a moment from ogling Pascherette, who purred with contentment and smiled slyly at the frown that came to Milo's face. "Oh, yes, a poor thing!" laughed Pascherette, hugging her knees and rippling over with amusement. "My mistress is a great queen.
Milo went, and Dolores flashed around on Pascherette again: "And thou, hussy, take this clinging frippery from me and give me my tunic. And, mark me, girl, thy eyes and ears belong to me. Thy tongue, too. Let that tongue utter one word of what those eyes see, those ears hear, and it shall be plucked from thy pretty mouth with hot pincers. Remember!"
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