"It naturally follows, as thou sayest," said the Jinnee, with a cunning assumption of indifference, "that I have naught to gain by demanding back the seal as the price of restoring this damsel's father to his original form. Wherefore, so far as I am concerned, let him remain a mule for ever; unless, indeed, thou art ready to comply with my conditions." "Conditions!" cried Horace, utterly unprepared for this conclusion. "What can you possibly want from me? But state them. I'll agree to anything, in reason!" "I demand that thou shouldst renounce the hand of this damsel." "That's out of all reason," said Horace, "and you know it. I will never give her up, so long as she is willing to keep me." "Maiden," said the Jinnee, addressing Sylvia for the first time, "the matter rests with thee. Wilt thou release this my son from his contract, since thou art no fit wife for such as he?" "How can I," cried Sylvia, "when I love him and he loves me? What a wicked tyrannical old thing you must be to expect it! I _can't_ give him up." "It is but giving up what can never be thine," said Fakrash. "And be not anxious for him, for I will reward and console him a thousandfold for the loss of thy society. A little while, and he shall remember thee no more." "Don't believe him, darling," said Horace; "you know me better than that." "Remember," said the Jinnee, "that by thy refusal thou wilt condemn thy parent to remain a mule throughout all his days. Art thou so unnatural and hard-hearted a daughter as to do this thing?" "Oh, I couldn't!" cried Sylvia. "I can't let poor father remain a mule all his life when one word--and yet what _am_ I to do? Horace, what shall I say? Advise me.... Advise me!" "Heaven help us both!" groaned Ventimore. "If I could only see the right thing to do. Look here, Mr. Fakrash," he added, "this is a matter that requires consideration. Will you relieve us of your presence for a short time, while we talk it over?" "With all my heart," said the Jinnee, in the most obliging manner in the world, and vanished instantly. "Now, darling," began Horace, after he had gone, "if that unspeakable old scoundrel is really in earnest, there's no denying that he's got us in an extremely tight place. But I can't bring myself to believe that he _does_ mean it. I fancy he's only trying us. And what I want you to do is not to consider me in the matter at all." "How can I help it?" said poor Sylvia. "Horace, you--you don't _want_ to be released, do you?"