Vaguely
had she been wondering what dastardly purpose Oliver might intend to
serve, but now that she heard his voice that wonder ceased and
understanding took its place. He had hung there somewhere in the crowd
waiting until all competitors but one should have been outbidden, and
now he stepped forth to buy her for his own--his slave! She closed her
eyes a moment and prayed God that he might not prevail in his intent.
Any fate but that; she would rob him even of the satisfaction of driving
her to sheathe a poniard in her heart as that poor Andalusian girl had
done. A wave almost of unconsciousness passed over her in the intensity
of her horror. For a moment the ground seemed to rock and heave under
her feet.
Then the dizziness passed, and she was herself again. She heard the
crowd thundering "Ma'sh'Allah!" and "Sakr-el-Bahr!" and the dalal
clamouring sternly for silence. When this was at last restored she
heard his exclamation--
"The glory to Allah who sends eager buyers! What sayest thou, 0 wazeer
Ayoub?"
"Ay!" sneered Tsamanni, "what now?"
"One thousand and three hundred," said Ayoub with a quaver of uneasy
defiance.
"Another hundred, 0 dalal," came from Sakr-el-Bahr in a quiet voice.
"One thousand and five hundred," screamed Ayoub, thus reaching not only
the limit imposed by his mistress, but the very limit of the resources
at her immediate disposal. Gone, too, with that bid was all hope of
profit to himself.
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