Part 51 (2/2)
”Sweet lady!” he ht we not have been but for that evil chance” He checked abruptly His hands fell from her shoulders to his sides, he half-turned away, brusque now in tone and row maudlin Your sweet pity has so softened me that I had almost spoke of love; and what have I to do with that?
Love belongs to life; love is life; whilst I Moriturus te salutat!”
”Ah, no, no!” She was clinging to hi hands, her eyes wild
”It is too late,” he answered her ”There is no bridge can span the pit I have dug o down into it as cheerfully as God will let o doith you At the last, at least, we shall be together”
”Now here is midsummer frenzy!” he protested, yet there was a tenderness in the very iolden head that lay against his shoulder ”How shall that help me?” he asked her ”Would you elory? Nay, Rosaland, and publish there the truth of what you have learnt Be yours the task of clearingthe truth of what drove ade and a corsair” He started from her ”Hark! What's that?”
From without had come a sudden cry, ”Afoot! To arms! To arms! Hola!
Balak! Balak!”
”It is the hour,” he said, and turning fro to the entrance and plucked aside the curtain
CHAPTER XXII THE SURRENDER
Up the gangway between the lines of slu slaves came a quick patter of feet Ali, who since sunset had been replacing Larocque on the heights, sprang suddenly upon the poop still shouting
”Captain! Captain! My lord! Afoot! Up! or we are taken!”
Throughout the vessel's length ca men A voice clamoured so was suddenly whisked aside and Asad himself appeared with Marzak at his elbow
From the starboard side as suddenly caitello, Jasper--that latest renegade--and a group of alarmed corsairs
”What now?” quoth the Basha
Ali delivered his hed anchor
She isout of the bay”
Asad clutched his beard, and scowled ”Nohat e of our presence have reached thee thus in the dead of night?”
said Biskaine
”Why else, indeed?” returned Asad, and then he swung upon Oliver standing there in the entrance of the poop-house ”What sayest thou, Sakr-el-Bahr?” he appealed to hi ”What is there to say? What is there to do?” he asked ”We can but wait If our presence is known to them we are finely trapped, and there's an end to all of us this night”
His voice was cool as ice, contemptuous almost, and whilst it struck anxiety into more than one it awoke terror in Marzak
”May thy bones rot, thou ill-omened prophet!” he screamed, and would have added more but that Sakr-el-Bahr silenced him
”What is written is written!” said he in a voice of thunder and reproof