y
words. The infidel Cadi, thy captive, falls to my share.

BRASSBOUND (firmly). It cannot be, Sidi el Assif. (Sidi's brows contract
gravely.) The price of his blood will be required of our lord the
Sultan. I will take him to Morocco and deliver him up there.

SIDI (impressively). Brassbound: I am in mine own house and amid mine
own people. I am the Sultan here. Consider what you say; for when my
word goes forth for life or death, it may not be recalled.

BRASSBOUND. Sidi el Assif: I will buy the man from you at what price you
choose to name; and if I do not pay faithfully, you shall take my head
for his.

SIDI. It is well. You shall keep the man, and give me the woman in
payment.

SIR HOWARD AND BRASSBOUND (with the same impulse). No, no.

LADY CICELY (eagerly). Yes, yes. Certainly, Mr. Sidi. Certainly.

Sidi smiles gravely.

SIR HOWARD. Impossible.

BRASSBOUND. You don't know what you're doing.

LADY CICELY. Oh, don't I? I've not crossed Africa and stayed with six
cannibal chiefs for nothing. (To the Sheikh) It's all right, Mr. Sidi: I
shall be delighted.

SIR HOWARD. You are mad. Do you suppose this man will treat you as a
European gentleman would?

LADY CICELY. No: he'll treat me like one of Nature's gentlemen: look at
his perfectly splendid face! (Addressing Osman as if he were her oldest
and most attached retainer.) Osman: be sure you choose me a good horse;
and get a nice strong camel for my luggage.

Osman, after a moment of stupefaction, hurries out. Lady Cicely puts
on her hat and pins it to her hair, the Sheikh gazing at her during the
process with timid admiration.

DRINKWATER (chuckling). She'll mawch em all to church next Sunder lawk a
bloomin lot o' cherrity kids: you see if she doesn't.

LADY CICELY (busily). Goodbye, Howard: don't be anxious about me; and
above all, don't bring a parcel of men with guns to rescue me. I
shall be all right now that I am getting away from the escort. Captain
Brassbound: I rely on you to see that Sir Howard gets safe to Mogador.
(Whispering) Take your hand off that pistol. (He takes his hand out of
his pocket, reluctantly.) Goodbye.

A tumult without. They all turn apprehensively to the arch. Osman rushes
in.

OSMAN. The Cadi, the Cadi. He is in anger. His men are upon us. Defend--

The Cadi, a vigorous, fatfeatured, choleric, whitehaired and bearded
elder, rushes in, cudgel in hand, with an overwhelming retinue, and
silences Osman with a sounding th