r than of
this half-bred barbarian, but the legions of Solomon and of Pharaoh are
far away, whereas Ithobal has a hundred thousand spears almost at our
gate."

"There is no need to speak of such things, father," she said, turning
aside, "since, even were I willing, the prince would have nought to do
with me, who am a priestess of Baaltis."

"The matter of religion might be overcome," suggested Sakon; "but, no,
for many reasons it is impossible. Well, this being so, daughter, I may
answer Ithobal that you will wed him."

"I!" she said; "I wed that black-hearted savage? My father, you may
answer what you will, but of this be sure, that I will go to my grave
before I pass as wife to the board of Ithobal."

"Oh! my daughter," pleaded Sakon, "think before you say it. As his
wife at least you, who are not of royal blood, will be a queen, and the
mother of kings. But if you refuse, then either I must force you, which
is hateful to me, or there will be such a war as the city has not known
for generations, for Ithobal and his tribes have many grievances against
us. By the gift of yourself, for a while, at any rate, you can, as it
chances, make peace between us, but if that is withheld, then blood will
run in rivers, and perhaps this city, with all who live in it, will
be destroyed, or at the least its trade must be ruined and its wealth
stolen away."

"If it is decreed that all these things are to be, they will be,"
answered Elissa calmly, "seeing that this war has threatened us for many
years, and that a woman must think of herself first, and of the fate of
cities afterwards. Of my own free will I shall never take Ithobal for
husband. Father, I have said."

"Of the fate of cities, yes; but how of my fate, and that of those we
love? Are we all to be ruined, and perhaps slaughtered, to satisfy your
whim, girl?"

"I did not say so, father. I said that of my own free will I would not
wed Ithobal. If you choose to give me to him you have the right to do
it, but know then that you give me to my death. Perhaps it is best that
it should be thus."

Sakon knew his daughter well, and it did not need that he should glance
at her face to learn that she meant her words. Also he loved her, his
only child, more dearly than anything on earth.

"In truth my strait is hard, and I know not which way to turn," he said,
covering his face with his hand.

"Father," she replied, laying her fingers lightly on his shoulder, "what
need is th