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"We come from her husband to ask her to return. Yes, he will forgive her or he offers her freedom." Rapidly but comprehensively the speaker's bold glance travelled over Zahara, from her golden head to her tiny embroidered shoes. "If you can help us in this matter it will be worth fifty English pounds to you," he concluded. Zahara was breathing rapidly.
In this part of his chronicle the worthy father Fray Antonio Agapida indulges in triumphant exultation over the downfall of Zahara. By the fall of this fortress was the prediction of the santon of Granada in some measure fulfilled, that "the ruins of Zahara should fall upon the heads of the infidels."
In reality it was a perfectly natural, instinctive movement. To Zahara her own beauty was a commonplace to be displayed or concealed as circumstances might dictate. In a certain sense, which few could appreciate, this half-caste dancing girl and daughter of El Wasr was as innocent as a baby. It was one of the things which men did not understand.
As a matter of fact, it was she who was bored of the life she led in Limehouse in chilly, misty Limehouse and who had grown so very lonely since Safiyeh had come. In the dark gray eyes looking up at her she read recognition of her secret. Here was a man possessing that rare masculine attribute, intuition. Zahara knew a fear that was half delightful.
His laughter had appeared forced. Doubtless he grew weary of the woman he had brought to London. "Dance to-night with all the devil that is in you, my beautiful," said Agapoulos, hurrying into the room. Zahara turned aside, toying with the veils. "They are rich, eh?" she said indifferently. The Spaniard had said so. "Very rich," murmured Agapoulos complacently.
Many Christian captives who had been taken at Zahara were found buried in a Moorish dungeon, and were triumphantly restored to light and liberty; and a renegado Spaniard, who had often served as guide to the Moors in their incursions into the Christian territories, was hanged on the highest part of the battlements for the edification of the army.
His companion had taken up the heavy stick and was restlessly tapping the floor. "There is no one here," said Zahara calmly, "except the people who live in the house." "He is here, he is here," muttered the man seated on the divan. The tapping of his stick had grown more rapid, but as he had spoken in Spanish, Zahara, who was ignorant of that language, had no idea what he had said.
There were wild-boars from the Jurjura Hills, overgrown monkeys from the gorge of "la Chiffa," lions from Mount Atlas, and panthers from the Zahara, besides other nondescript creatures from nowhere. But these were a mere sprinkling in the gay scene of richly dressed ladies and gentlemen, among whom, strange to say, were not a few Christian slaves!
But finally: "I will tell Hassan that you are to be admitted," said Zahara, and she held out her hand for the notes. When, presently, the visitors departed, she learned that the smaller man was blind; for his companion led him out of the room and out of the house. She stood awhile listening to the tap, tap, tap of the heavy stick receding along the street.
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