French they will
understand you. I would I could have brought a woman to minister to
you, but that was impossible, as you'll perceive." He stepped to the
entrance.

"You are leaving me?" she questioned him in sudden alarm.

"Naturally. But be sure that I shall be very near at hand. And meanwhile
be no less sure that you have no cause for immediate fear. At least,
matters are no worse than when you were in the pannier. Indeed, much
better, for some measure of ease and comfort is now possible to you. So
be of good heart; eat and rest. God guard you! I shall return soon after
sunrise."

Outside on the poop-deck he found Asad alone now with Marzak under the
awning. Night had fallen, the great crescent lanterns on the stern rail
were alight and cast a lurid glow along the vessel's length, picking out
the shadowy forms and gleaming faintly on the naked backs of the slaves
in their serried ranks along the benches, many of them bowed already in
attitudes of uneasy slumber. Another lantern swung from the mainmast,
and yet another from the poop-rail for the Basha's convenience. Overhead
the clustering stars glittered in a cloudless sky of deepest purple. The
wind had fallen entirely, and the world was wrapped in stillness broken
only by the faint rustling break of waves upon the beach at the cove's
end.

Sakr-el-Bahr crossed to Asad's side, and begged for a word alone with
him.

"I am alone," said the Basha curtly.

"Marzak is nothing, then," said Sakr-el-Bahr. "I have long suspected
it."

Marzak showed his teeth and growled inarticulately, whilst the Basha,
taken aback by the ease reflected in the captain's careless, mocking
words, could but quote a line of the Koran with which Fenzileh of late
had often nauseated him.

"A man's son is the partner of his soul. I have no secrets from Marzak.
Speak, then, before him, or else be silent and depart."

"He may be the partner of thy soul, Asad," replied the corsair with his
bold mockery, "but I give thanks to Allah he is not the partner of mine.
And what I have to say in some sense concerns my soul."

"I thank thee," cut in Marzak, "for the justice of thy words. To be the
partner of thy soul were to be an infidel unbelieving dog."

"Thy tongue, O Marzak, is like thine archery," said Sakr-el-Bahr.

"Ay--in that it pierces treachery," was the swift retort.

"Nay--in that it aims at what it cannot hit. Now, Allah, pardon me!
Shall I grow angry at such words as thine? Hat