Alroy, and this little
incident occasioned a great confusion.

In the meantime the negroes prepared the instruments of torture and of
death.

'The obstinacy of this Jewish dog makes me mad,' said the King of
Karasme to his courtiers. 'I will hold some parley with him before he
dies.' The favourite minister entreated his sovereign to be content;
but the royal beard grew so red, and the royal eyes flashed forth such
terrible sparks of fire, that even the favourite minister at length gave
way.

The trumpet sounded, the criers called silence, and the voice of Alp
Arslan was again heard.

'Thou dog, dost see what is preparing for thee? Dost know what awaits
thee in the halls of thy master Eblis? Can a Jew be influenced even by
false pride? Is not life sweet? Is it not better to be my slipper-bearer
than to be impaled?'

'Magnanimous Alp Arslan,' replied Alroy in a tone of undisguised
contempt; 'thinkest thou that any torture can be equal to the
recollection that I have been conquered by thee?'

'By my beard, he mocks me!' exclaimed the Karasmian monarch, 'he defies
me! Touch not my robe. I will parley with him. Ye see no farther than a
hooded hawk, ye sons of a blind mother. This is a sorcerer; he hath yet
some master spell; he will yet save himself. He will fly into the air,
or sink into the earth. He laughs at our tortures.' The King of Karasme
precipitately descended the steps of his throne, followed by his
favourite minister, and his councillors, and chief captains, and the
Cadis, and the Mullahs, and the Imams, and the principal personages of
the city.

'Sorcerer!' exclaimed Alp Arslan, 'insolent sorcerer! base son of a base
mother! dog of dogs! dost thou defy us? Does thy master Eblis whisper
hope? Dost thou laugh at our punishments? Wilt thou fly into the
air? wilt thou sink into the earth? eh, eh? Is it so, is it so?' The
breathless monarch ceased, from the exhaustion of passion. He tore his
beard out by the roots, he stamped with uncontrollable rage.

'Thou art wiser than thy councillors, royal Arslan; I do defy thee.
My master, although not Eblis, has not deserted me. I laugh at thy
punishments. Thy tortures I despise. I shall both sink into the earth
and mount into the air. Art thou answered?'

'By my beard,' exclaimed the enraged Arslan, 'I am answered. Let Eblis
save thee if he can;' and the King of Karasme, the most famous master
of the sabre in Asia, drew his blade like lightning from its sheath,