arther window," cried Nehushta, in commanding tones.
"Leap down upon the balcony--it is scarce a man's height--follow it to
the end and past the corner where it joins the main wall of the garden.
Run along upon the wall till you find a place where you can descend.
Through the gardens you can easily reach the road by the northern gate.
Fly and save yourselves in the darkness. You will reach the fortress
before dawn if you hasten. You will hasten," she added with something of
disdain in her voice, for before she had half uttered her directions,
the last of the slave-women, mad with terror, disappeared through the
open window, and she could hear them drop, one after the other, in quick
succession upon the marble balcony below. She was alone.

But, looking down, she saw at her feet the little Syrian maid, looking
with imploring eyes to her face.

"Why do you not go with the rest?" asked Nehushta, stooping down and
laying one hand upon the girl's shoulder.

"I have eaten thy bread--shall I leave thee in the hour of death?" asked
the little slave, humbly.

"Go, child," replied Nehushta, very kindly. "I have seen thy devotion
and truth--thou must not perish."

But the Syrian leaped to her feet, and there was pride in her small
face, as she answered:

"I am a bondwoman, but I am a daughter of Israel, even as thou art.
Though all the others leave thee, I will not. It may be I can help
thee."

"Thou art a brave child," said Nehushta; and she drew the girl to her
and pressed her kindly. "I must go to Zoroaster--stay thou here, hide
thyself among the curtains--escape by the window, if any come to harm
thee." She turned and went rapidly out between the curtains, as calm and
as pale as death.

The din in the palace had partially subsided, and new and strange cries
re-echoed through the vast halls and corridors. An occasional wild
scream--a momentary distant crash as of a door breaking down and
thundering upon the marble pavement; and then again, the long, strange
cries, mingled with a dull, low sound as of a great moaning--all came up
together, and seemed to meet Nehushta as she lifted the curtains and
went out.

But the little Syrian maid grasped the Indian knife in her girdle, and
stole stealthily upon her mistress's steps.

CHAPTER XX.

Nehushta glided like a ghost along the corridors and dimly-lighted
halls. As yet, the confusion seemed to be all in the lower story of the
palace, but the roaring din rose lo