“Ranadar!”

He thought that she was some unearthly being when he heard it, and looked upon her as she buried her face in her hands and wept.  A sudden noise alarmed her, and she raised herself languidly upon her couch.  Footsteps were heard outside, and after a time Ranadar saw the door open and his hated foe Achmet, walk in.

“Allah save you, beautiful Grecian maiden!  Who is there who in beauty can equal Iona?  I hope you are more tender than you were yesterday?”

“Leave me to myself,” she cried, waving her hand.

“O no, no,—­do not send me away, do not deprive me of the light of your heavenly smile.  You torture me.  Why do you treat me so Maiden, you are my slave.”

“By purchase-but I yield not to you.”

“Hearken to me.  You have defied me too long.  You are in my power entirely.  If you will not love me willingly, I would scorn to compel you.  I have come this time expecting you to be more kind.  I find you unaltered, I do not love you well enough to wait for you to change.  You must die!”

Ranadar shuddered with ill-suppressed rage, but the lovely Iona gazed at Achmet unshrinkingly.

“I know you love another.  I know your affection for that pestilent Grecian.  I have watched you, seen your actions, and heard you sigh his name.  He too shall die!”

“He will never be in your power.”

“Will he not?  He lies now in my lowest dungeon.  There he shall starve!”

Iona who had thus far been firm, when she heard that, fell back upon the couch, but ashamed of her weakness, raised herself, and again confronted her enemy.  But her face was deathly pale, and her hands were clasped tightly together.

“In one hour, Grecian maid-in one hour,”—­and his voice sank to a deep, hard whisper—­“you shall die, and nevermore shall your father behold you-nevermore shall Ranadar gaze upon you unless it be in Eblis.”  And Achmet departed.

“Alas, he never has gazed upon me.  Ranadar never has seen me, but I have seen him-ah, too often.”

Ranadar was filled with a variety of contending emotions.  But passionate love and pity for the beautiful Iona were pre-eminent among them.  He looked in silence after Achmet had gone, but suddenly remembered that no time could be lost in waiting there.

“Surely,” he said to himself, “there must be something else here beside this aperture, there must be some small door by which one might enter.  He searched narrowly around, and at length saw a small panel which seemed fastened by a concealed bolt.  This he pushed back, the door opened, and Ranadar stood before Iona.  At the noise of his entrance, she started, and looking up, muttered a few words in a daring tone, as though she supposed the slaves had come to put her to death, but seeing Ranadar the great corsair, the man whom she loved beyond all words, she uttered a faint scream of joy and raised her arms and face to heaven.  He caught her in his arms.