THE TARTAR SLAVE
could take care of himself, and the Brahman lad could not understand the tongue in which he spoke. Noren was devoured by anxiety and thought; he knew not where he had been brought, or how he could escape, for he was a prisoner, and the doors and windows of the room were barred.
One night as he was revolving these thoughts in his own mind he again heard a rustle near his bed. Turning round he saw the same sinuous figure which he had seen before so often. Her keen, piercing eyes made the young man start. Her complexion was more radiant than is usually found among the daughters of India. She was lithe and agile like a beautiful young panther, and her footfall and noiseless movements also reminded Noren of a denizen of the jungle watching her prey!
"I have seen thy face, fair one, in my dreams," Noren at last spoke to her, "or, perhaps, thou hast watched by my bedside when I was almost unconscious. Speak in thy kindness and tell me where I am. Speak and help one who needs help."
The girl spoke not, but raised her bare arm and laid her finger on her lips to enjoin silence. But Noren was not to be silenced.
"Speak, strange being! Art thou the owner of this noble mansion, and hast thou given shelter to a poor wounded soldier? Thou hast, I verily believe, watched over me in my illness and saved my life—thou hast been a friend to the friendless in this strange place."
Still the girl spoke not, but stood motionless in her radiant beauty and with her gleaming, terrible eyes!
