Some two hours had passed since the break-up of the assembly in the great hall. Prince Aziel was seated in his chamber, when the keeper of the door announced that a woman was without who desired to speak with him. He gave orders that she should be admitted, and presently a veiled figure entered the room and bowed before him.
"Be pleased to unveil, and to tell me your business," he said.
With some reluctance his visitor withdrew the wrapping from her head, revealing a face which Aziel recognised as one that he had seen among the waiting women who attended on Elissa.
"My message is for your ear, Prince," she said, glancing at the man who had ushered her into the chamber.
"It is not my custom to receive strangers thus alone," said the prince; "but be it as you will," and he motioned to the servant to retire without the door. "I await your pleasure," he added, when the man had gone.
"It is here," she answered, and drew from her bosom a little papyrus roll.
"Who wrote this?" he asked.
"I know not, Prince; it was given to me to pass on to you."
Then he opened the roll and read. It ran thus: "Though we parted with bitter words, still in my sore distress I crave the comfort of your counsel. Therefore, since I am forbidden to speak with you openly, meet me, I beseech you, at moonrise in the palace garden under the shade of the great fig tree with five roots, where I shall be accompanied only by one I trust. Bring no man with you for my safety's sake.--Elissa."
Aziel thrust the scroll into his robe, and thought awhile. Then he gave the waiting lady a piece of gold and said:--
"Tell her who sent you that I obey her words. Farewell."
This message seemed to puzzle the woman, who opened her lips to speak.
Then, changing her mind, she turned and went.
Scarcely had she gone when the Ph?nician, Metem, was ushered into the room.
"O Prince," he said maliciously, "pardon me if I caution you. Yet in truth if veiled ladies flit thus through your apartments in the light of day, it will reach the ears of the holy but violent Issachar, of whose doings I come to speak. Then, Prince, I tremble for you."
Aziel made a movement half-impatient and half-contemptuous. "The woman is a serving-maid," he said, "who brought me a message that I understand but little. Tell me, Metem, for you know this place of old, does there stand in the palace garden a great fig tree with five roots?"
"Yes, Prince; at least such a tree used to grow there when last I visited this country. It was one of the wonders of the town, because of its size. What of it?"
"Little, except that I must be under it at moonrise. See and read, since whatever you may say of yourself, you are, I think, no traitor."
"Not if I am well paid to keep counsel, Prince," Metem answered with a smile. Then he read the scroll.
"I am glad that the noble lady brings an attendant with her," he said as he returned it, with a bow. "The gossips of Zimboe are censorious, and might misinterpret this moonlight meeting, as indeed would Sakon and Issachar. Well, doves will coo and maids will woo, and unless I can make money out of it the affair is none of mine."
"Have I not told you that there is no question of wooing?" asked the prince angrily. "I go only to give her what counsel I can in the matter of the suit of this savage, Ithobal. The lady Elissa and I have quarrelled beyond repair over that accursed sacrifice----"
"Which her ready wit prevented," put in Metem.
"But I promised last night that I would help her if I could," the prince went on, "and I always keep my word."
"I understand, Prince. Well, since you turn from the lady, whose name with yours is so much in men's mouths just now, doubtless you will give her wise counsel, namely, to wed Ithobal, and lift the shadow of war from this city. Then, indeed, we shall all be grateful to you, for it seems that no one else can move her stubbornness. And, by the way:
If, when she has listened to your wisdom, the daughter of Sakon should chance to explain to you that the sight of this day's attempted sacrifice filled her with horror, and that she parted with every jewel she owns to put an end to it--well, her words will be true. But, since you have quarrelled, they will have no more interest for you, Prince, than has my talk about them. So now to other matters." And Metem began to speak of the conduct of Issachar in the sanctuary, and of the necessity of guarding him against assassination at the hands of the priests of El as a consequence of his religious zeal. Presently he was gone, leaving Aziel somewhat bewildered.
Could it be true, as she herself had told him, and as Metem now asserted, that Elissa had not participated willingly in the dark rites in the temple? If so he had misjudged her and been unjust; indeed, what atonement could suffice for such words as he had used towards her? Well, to some extent she must have understood and forgiven them, otherwise she would scarcely have sought his aid, though he knew not how he could help her in her distress.
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