Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 11, 2025
Zahara entered the room, enveloped from shoulders to ankles in a flame-coloured cloak. Between her lips she held a red rose. "By God, what a beauty!" said a husky voice. Zahara did not know which of the party had spoken, but she was conscious of the fact that by virtue of the strange witchcraft which became hers on such nights she held them all spell-bound. They were her slaves.
There have been dreadful fighting and carnage in its towers and courts; and when I spurred my steed from the gate of Alhama the castle was in possession of the unbelievers." Muley Abul Hassan felt for a moment as if swift retribution had come upon him for the woes he had inflicted upon Zahara.
But she could play upon an a'ood much better than Zahara, and therefore must not be upset until she had played for the Dance of the Veils. Seeing that the bargain was all but concluded, Zahara stole back to her room. Her lightly clad body gleamed like that of some statue become animate.
But the strongest fortress and sternest virtue have weak points, and require unremitting vigilance to guard them: let warrior and dame take warning from the fate of Zahara.
Zahara tilted her head on to her shoulder and cast a languorous glance into the shadows masking the watchful Spaniard. She could see his eyes gleaming like those of a wild beast. An icy finger seemed to touch her heart. He had lied to her! She knew it, suddenly, intuitively. Well, she would see. She also had guile. With a little scornful laugh Zahara tossed the rose on to the knees of Agapoulos.
In this instance, however, a voice rose from the midst of the obsequious crowd, and burst like thunder upon the ears of Abul Hassan. "Woe! woe! woe! to Granada!" exclaimed the voice; "its hour of desolation approaches. The ruins of Zahara will fall upon our heads; my spirit tells me that the end of our empire is at hand."
"I think you are mistaken," said Zahara coolly. "But what do you want him for?" As she uttered the words she realized that even the memory of Grantham was sufficient to cause her to betray herself. She had betrayed her interest to the man himself, and now she had betrayed it to this dark-faced stranger whose manner was so mysterious.
Strongly situated on a rocky height, with a river nearly surrounding it and a fortress seated on a steep crag above it, and far within the border, no dream of danger to Alhama came to the mind of the Moors, who contented themselves with a small garrison and a negligent guard. But the loss of Zahara had exasperated Ferdinand.
Once she had even crept across to the carven screen in order that she might peep through into the big, softly lighted room. Zahara, whose father had been a Frenchman, possessed skin of a subtle cream colour very far removed from the warm brown of her Egyptian mother, but yet not white.
There was a faint smell of perfume in the room, a heavy voluptuous smell in which the odour of sandal-wood mingled with the pungency of myrrh. It was very silent, so that when Grantham mixed a drink the pleasant chink of glass upon glass rang out sharply. Zahara had overheard the latter part of the conversation from her own apartment.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking