She sat up and confronted him with eyes of fire.

“Oh, brute!” she panted; “monster! rabid dog! I have had enough of you and your behaviour. I shall leave you. Tomorrow I shall go to the Consul and tell him how you struck me!”

“You shall not leave this room. I am your master.”

“Lock the door, block up the window, bind me, guard me, I still will find some way to let the Consul know. You shall be punished⁠—I have sworn it. I have had enough, I say. I shall return to England.”

“Your talk is madness! Have a care! The punishment is death for one renouncing El Islam. Say, is that your meaning? Your own slaves will kill you!”

He put the question in bloodcurdling tones. But Barakah, dissolved in tears, made no rejoinder. A minute later he was once more at her side, imploring mercy, declaring her his light of life, his pearl of pearls. She still whimpered, “I shall tell the Consul.”