“Do not approach me,” she exclaimed, and rising with a groan, she called Mariam. She was about to leave the room, still uttering imprecations, when the door was thrown quickly open and the pacha appeared suddenly, surrounded by soldiers, and carrying a complete arsenal of arms of all kinds at his girdle. Whether the wrath of the Mingrelian had reached its height, or whether the sentiment of self preservation awakened imperiously in her, rendered her pitiless, she exclaimed— “Kill him—kill him!” and with her finger designated the unfortunate Frank to the vengeance of the pacha. The young man cast a momentary sad and pitying look upon her, which made her start; he then held out his head, a soldier raised his sabre, but Djezzar turned the blow aside. “No,” said he, “he must not die so quickly;” and casting a suspicious glance by turns upon the two, he murmured in a low voice this frightfully poetic phrase, “his blood should not leap suddenly like water from the fountain, but flow gently like that of the spring which falls drop by drop from the rock.” In the East, poetry is found every where. He then said something in the ear of a Mangrebian slave near him, and the Christian was led away. CHAPTER IV. Djezzar, left alone with Baïla, gave vent at first to all his jealous passions; but with him the favorite had nothing to dread but an explanation, commencing with a blow from his dagger. As soon as she found him confine himself simply to threats and reproaches, she ceased to fear for her life. Assuming an attitude of surprise, a look of disgust, whilst still endeavoring to appear as handsome as possible, she sought to make use of all her advantages and to employ in her favor with the Turk that toilette of carelessness prepared coquettishly for the Christian. Djezzar, who had on that day returned from Tocata to Shivas, had been informed in the latter city of the intention of the Frank to penetrate into the interior of his harem; but he had no proof of the complicity of his beautiful slave. Baïla perceived it. He who could have given those proofs was, doubtless, expiring at that very moment. Were there not also to assist her, her imprecations against the giaour and her movement of terror and flight, of which the pacha himself was a witness. Thus, the latter was soon convinced and the tables turned; it was now the master who, humble and suppliant, lowly implored her pardon. He was, however, preparing a terrible proof for the influence of the Mingrelian. Baïla, irritated at having been suspected, was already raising her voice higher. “Listen,” said the pacha, imposing silence by a gesture, and appearing himself to hearken to a certain movement which was manifested without. She listened, but heard nothing but a low, confused, monotonous and regular sound, like that of threshing. “What is it?” she asked. “Nothing—nothing at all,” he replied.