“Husband, I pledge you,” she said, and drank, thrusting the cup into my hand. I, too, lifted it to my lips. Lo! it was empty. “Oh! most cruel of thieves,” I cried, “you have stolen all.” “Aye,” she answered. “Shall I see you swallow poison before my eyes? I die, but perchance God may save you yet.” “Not so, Heliodore,” I cried again, and, turning, began to grope my way to the window-place, which I knew was far from the ground, since I had no weapon that would serve my turn. In an instant, as I thrust the lattice open, I felt two strong arms cast about me and heard the physician exclaim, “Come, Lady, help me with this madman, lest he do himself a mischief.” She seized me also, and we struggled together all three of us. The doors burst open, and I was dragged back into the centre of the room. “Olaf Red-Sword, the blind General of the Christians,” said the physician in a new voice, one that was full of majesty and command, “I who speak to you am no doctor of medicine and no envoy. I am Harun-al-Rashid, Caliph of the Faithful. Is it not so, my servants?” “It is so, Caliph,” pealed the answer from many throats. “Hearken, then, to the decree of Harun-al-Rashid. Learn both of you that all which has passed between us was but a play that I have played to test the love and faithfulness of you twain. Lady Heliodore, be at ease. You have drunk nothing save water distilled with roses, and no sleep shall fall on you save that which Nature brings to happiness. Lady, I tell you that, having seen what I have seen and heard what I have heard, rather would I stand in the place of that blind man to-night than be Sovereign of the East. Truly, I knew not that love such as yours was to be met with in the world. I say that when I saw you drain the cup in a last poor struggle to drive back the death that threatened this Olaf my own heart went out in love for you. Yet have no fear, since my love is of a kind that would not rob you of your love, but rather would bring it to a rich and glorious blossom in the sunshine of my favour. Wondrous is the tale of the wooing of you twain and happy shall be its end. General Olaf, you conquered me in war and dealt with those of my servants who fell into your hands according to the nobleness of your heart. Shall I, then, be outdone in generosity by one whom a while ago I should have named a Christian dog? Not so! Let the high priest of the Christians, Politian, be brought hither. He stands without, and with him the lady named Martina, who was the Empress Irene’s waiting-woman.” The messengers went and there followed a silence. There are times when the heart is too full for words; at least, Heliodore and I found nothing to say to each other. We only clasped each other’s hand and waited. At length the door opened, and I heard the eager, bustling step of Politian, also another gliding step, which I knew for that of Martina. She came to me, she kissed me on the brow, and whispered into my ear,