“It is brave of you to go,” said Rosamund, then added by an afterthought, “How long is it since we left Marseilles?” Marie counted on her fat fingers, and answered: “Five—nearly six weeks. You have been wandering in your mind all that time, talking of many strange things, and we have called at three ports. I forget their names, but the last one was an island with a beautiful harbour. Now, in about twenty days, if all goes well, we should reach another island called Cyprus. But you must not talk so much, you must sleep. The Saracen called Hassan, who is a clever doctor, told me so.” So Rosamund slept, and from that time forward, floating on the calm Mediterranean sea, her strength began to come back again rapidly, who was young and strong in body and constitution. Three days later she was helped to the deck, where the first man she saw was Hassan, who came forward to greet her with many Eastern salutations and joy written on his dark, wrinkled face. “I give thanks to Allah for your sake and my own,” he said. “For yours that you still live whom I thought would die, and for myself that had you died your life would have been required at my hands by Salah-ed-din, my master.” “If so, he should have blamed Azrael, not you,” answered Rosamund, smiling; then suddenly turned cold, for before her was Sir Hugh Lozelle, who also thanked Heaven that she had recovered. She listened to him coldly, and presently he went away, but soon was at her side again. Indeed, she could never be free of him, for whenever she appeared on deck he was there, nor could he be repelled, since neither silence nor rebuff would stir him. Always he sat near, talking in his false, hateful voice, and devouring her with the greedy eyes which she could feel fixed upon her face. With him often was his jackal, the false palmer Nicholas, who crawled about her like a snake and strove to flatter her, but to this man she would never speak a word. At last she could bear it no longer, and when her health had returned to her, summoned Hassan to her cabin. “Tell me, prince,” she said, “who rules upon this vessel?” “Three people,” he answered, bowing. “The knight, Sir Hugh Lozelle, who, as a skilled navigator, is the captain and rules the sailors; I, who rule the fighting men; and you, Princess, who rule us all.” “Then I command that the rogue named Nicholas shall not be allowed to approach me. Is it to be borne that I must associate with my father’s murderer?” “I fear that in that business we all had a hand, nevertheless your order shall be obeyed. To tell you the truth, lady, I hate the fellow, who is but a common spy.” “I desire also,” went on Rosamund, “to speak no more with Sir Hugh Lozelle.” “That is more difficult,” said Hassan, “since he is the captain whom my master ordered me to obey in all things that have to do with the ship.”