beware!"

"We go together to Caesar," began Meroe, "or we go not at all."

"Poor fools! Are you not prisoners at our mercy?" said the interpreter
to them, pointing to the soldiers, motionless at the door of the tent.
"Willingly or unwillingly, I will be obeyed."

Albinik reflected that resistance was impossible. Death he was not
afraid of; but to die was to renounce his plans at the moment when they
seemed to be prospering. Nevertheless, the thought of leaving Meroe
alone in the tent disturbed him. The young woman divined the fears of
her husband, and feeling, like him, that they must resign themselves,
said:

"Go alone. I shall wait for you without fear, true as your brother is an
able armorer."

Reassured by his wife's significant words, Albinik followed the
interpreter. The door flaps of the tent, for the moment raised, fell
back into place. Immediately, from behind them, she heard a heavy thud.
She ran towards the place, and saw that a thick wicker screen had been
fastened outside, closing the door. The young woman was at first
surprised with this precaution, but she presently thought that it would
be better to remain thus secured while awaiting Albinik, and that
perhaps he himself had asked that the tent be closed till his return.

Meroe accordingly seated herself thoughtfully on the bed, full of hope
in the interview which undoubtedly her husband was then having with
Caesar. Suddenly her revery was broken by a singular noise. It came from
the part directly in front of the bed. Almost immediately, the cloth
parted its whole length. The young woman sprang to her feet. Her first
movement was to seize the poniard which she carried under her blouse.
Then, trusting in herself and in the weapon which she held, she waited,
calling to mind the Gallic proverb, "He who takes his own life in his
hands has nothing to fear but the gods!"

Against the background of dense shadows on which the tent cloth parted,
Meroe saw the young Moorish slave approach, wrapped in her white
garments. As soon as the slave had put her foot in the tent, she fell
upon her knees, and stretched out her clasped hands to Albinik's
companion. Touched by the suppliant gesture and the grief imprinted on
the face of the slave, Meroe felt neither suspicion nor fear, but
compassion mingled with curiosity, and she laid her poniard at the head
of the bed. The Moorish girl advanced, creeping on her knees, her two
hands still extended towards Meroe, who,