Part 37 (2/2)
”Azrael,” said Ha.s.san meekly, ”be not angry with me, at least not now.”
”Thou hast never suspected me, then?”
”Have I not always loved thee? If even thou didst want my life would I not trust it with thee?”
”Then wander not about the room so. Go and rest!”
”Rest to-night? The Messenger of Death stands before the door.”
”What care I about the Messenger of Death? I know _when_ I am going to die! And _till_ then I will not lower my eyes before Death.”
”And when will Ha.s.san die?” asked the Vizier, seizing the hand of his favourite and watching eagerly for her answer with parted lips.
”Thou wilt survive me a day and no longer,” said Azrael. There was a tremulousness in the intonation of her voice. She felt that what she said was true.
The tears trickled from Ha.s.san's face, and he covered it with his hands.
Then the imbecile old man kissed the robe of the odalisk again and again, and folding her in his ardent embrace, actually sobbed over her.
And he kept on babbling:
”Thou wilt die before me?”
”So it is written in the book of the Future,” said Azrael proudly; ”so long as thou seest me alive, have no fear of Death! But the sound of the horn of the Angel of Death which summons me away will also be a signal for thee to make ready.”
Ha.s.san, having dried his tears, quitted Azrael's room, and on reaching his own, sank down upon a divan, and was immediately overcome by sleep.
When he had gone, Mariska knelt down before the bed on which her little child was softly sleeping, and drawing a little ivory cross from her breast, began to pray.
Azrael touched her hand.
”Pray not now, thou wilt have time to pray later.”
Mariska looked at her in wonder.
”I? Are not the hours of my life numbered?”
”No. Listen to my words and act accordingly. I will free thee.”
The Princess was astonished, she fancied she was dreaming.
The odalisk now drew a small fine steel file from her girdle, and, seizing the Princess's hand, began to file the chain from off it.
After the first few rubs the sharp file bit deeply into the silver circlet, but suddenly it stopped, and, press it as hard as she would, it would bite the chain no more.
”What is this? it won't go on. What is the chain made of? Even if it were of steel, another steel would file it.”
<script>