hand.

I, too, lifted it to my lips. Lo! it was empty.

"Oh! most cruel of thieves," I cried, "you have stolen all."

"Aye," she answered. "Shall I see you swallow poison before my eyes? I
die, but perchance God may save you yet."

"Not so, Heliodore," I cried again, and, turning, began to grope my way
to the window-place, which I knew was far from the ground, since I had
no weapon that would serve my turn.

In an instant, as I thrust the lattice open, I felt two strong arms cast
about me and heard the physician exclaim,

"Come, Lady, help me with this madman, lest he do himself a mischief."

She seized me also, and we struggled together all three of us. The doors
burst open, and I was dragged back into the centre of the room.

"Olaf Red-Sword, the blind General of the Christians," said the
physician in a new voice, one that was full of majesty and command,
"I who speak to you am no doctor of medicine and no envoy. I am
Harun-al-Rashid, Caliph of the Faithful. Is it not so, my servants?"

"It is so, Caliph," pealed the answer from many throats.

"Hearken, then, to the decree of Harun-al-Rashid. Learn both of you that
all which has passed between us was but a play that I have played to
test the love and faithfulness of you twain. Lady Heliodore, be at ease.
You have drunk nothing save water distilled with roses, and no sleep
shall fall on you save that which Nature brings to happiness. Lady, I
tell you that, having seen what I have seen and heard what I have heard,
rather would I stand in the place of that blind man to-night than be
Sovereign of the East. Truly, I knew not that love such as yours was to
be met with in the world. I say that when I saw you drain the cup in a
last poor struggle to drive back the death that threatened this Olaf my
own heart went out in love for you. Yet have no fear, since my love is
of a kind that would not rob you of your love, but rather would bring it
to a rich and glorious blossom in the sunshine of my favour. Wondrous is
the tale of the wooing of you twain and happy shall be its end. General
Olaf, you conquered me in war and dealt with those of my servants who
fell into your hands according to the nobleness of your heart. Shall
I, then, be outdone in generosity by one whom a while ago I should have
named a Christian dog? Not so! Let the high priest of the Christians,
Politian, be brought hither. He stands without, and with him the lady
named Martina, who was the Empress Ire