his commission, and soon deposited the precious token inside the
window of Aphiz's prison.

It needed no conjuror to tell Aphiz whom that floral letter came
from. The shower of buds and blossoms that had been thrown to him by
the boy had puzzled him, coming without any apparent design,
regularity, or purpose; but this, as he read its hidden mystery, was
all clear enough to him, he knew the hand that had to gathered and
bound them together. She was true and loved him still.

Komel, in her earnest love, despite the rebuff she had already
received, determined once more to appeal to the Sultan for the
release of his prisoner. But the monarch had grown moody and
thoughtful, as we have seen, when he realized that his slave loved
another; and every word she now uttered in his behalf was bitterness
to his very soul. She only found that he was the more firmly set in
his design as to retraining her in the harem, if not to take the
life of the young mountaineer.

The Sultan brooded over this state of affairs with a settled frown
upon his brow. Had it not been that Aphiz had saved his life by his
brave assistance at a critical moment, he would not have hesitated
one instant as to what he should do, for had it been otherwise he
would have ordered him to be destroyed as quickly as he would have
ordered the execution of any criminal.--But hardened and calloused as
he was by power, and self-willed as he was from never being thwarted
in his wishes, yet he found it difficult to give the order that
should sacrifice the life of one who had so gallantly saved him from
peril.