Before them stood Rosamund! Yes, it was Rosamund, worn with sickness, terrors, and travel, Rosamund herself beyond all doubt. At the sight of her pale, queenly beauty the heap on the cushion stirred beneath his black cloak, and the beady eyes were filled with an evil, eager light. Even the _daïs_ seemed to wake from their contemplation, and Masouda bit her red lip, turned pale beneath her olive skin, and watched with devouring eyes, waiting to read this woman’s heart. “Rosamund!” cried the brethren with one voice. She heard. As they sprang towards her she glanced wildly from face to face, then with a low cry flung an arm about the neck of each and would have fallen in the ecstacy of her joy had they not held her. Indeed, her knees touched the ground. As they stooped to lift her it flashed into Godwin’s mind that Masouda had told Sinan that they were her brethren. The thought was followed by another. If this were so, they might be left with her, whereas otherwise that black-robed devil— “Listen,” he whispered in English; “we are not your cousins—we are your brothers, your half-brothers, and we know no Arabic.” She heard and Wulf heard, but the watchers thought that they were but welcoming each other, for Wulf began to talk also, random words in French, such as “Greeting, sister!” “Well found, sister!” and kissed her on the forehead. Rosamund opened her eyes, which had closed, and, gaining her feet, gave one hand to each of the brethren. Then the voice of Masouda was heard interpreting the words of Sinan. “It seems, lady, that you know these knights.” “I do—well. They are my brothers, from whom I was stolen when they were drugged and our father was killed.” “How is that, lady, seeing that you are said to be the niece of Salah-ed-din? Are these knights, then, the nephews of Salah-ed-din?” “Nay,” answered Rosamund, “they are my father’s sons, but of another wife.” The answer appeared to satisfy Sinan, who fixed his eyes upon the pale beauty of Rosamund and asked no more questions. While he remained thus thinking, a noise arose at the end of the terrace, and the brethren, turning their heads, saw that the thick-set knight was striving to thrust his way through the guards who stood by the curtains and barred his path with the shafts of their spears. Then it came into Godwin’s mind that just before Rosamund unveiled he had seen this knight suddenly turn and walk down the terrace. The lord Sinan looked up at the sound and made a sign. Thereon two of the _daïs_ sprang to their feet and ran towards the curtain, where they spoke with the knight, who turned and came back with them, though slowly, as one who is unwilling. Now his hood had fallen from his head, and Godwin and Wulf stared at him as he advanced, for surely they knew those great shoulders, those round black eyes, those thick lips, and that heavy jowl. “Lozelle! It is Lozelle!” said Godwin.