Roam out beyond the Jewel Gate Pass . . ."
She cut off her song on a high note, in midair. She looked at the Princess who lay on a canopied couch; turned to Zemzem, another slave girl, an Arab entirely devoted to her mistress; put a finger to her lips.
"The Heaven-Born sleeps," she whispered; and the two slaves stepped softly from the apartment, the sounds of lute and song growing fainter and fainter:
"Looking from the carved, broad window
Of the pagoda of exquisite purity,
In vain do I seek for the outlines of the White Jade House . . ."
The trembling cadences receded and Ahmed rose, the string of pearls in his hand.
"Charming!" he thought, for he had a pretty taste in music. "Let us see if I, the Thief of Bagdad, am thief enough to steal a look at the singer!"
He left the hall. He leaped up a flight of
