52
MATHIAS SANDORF.
Part III.
Point Pescade set himself to reflect, and where could
he find a better position for reflection?
"That is Namir who has just gone into that room," he
said to himself. "It is evident she is not going to Sava
Sandorf! But perhaps she came from her, and, in that
case, her room will be that one in the angle over thereI
will go and see!"
He waited a few minutes before he left his post. The
light inside the skifa seemed to grow less, and the voices
died out to a faint murmur. Doubtless the hour had
come when Sidi Hazam's household retired to rest. The
circumstances were, therefore, more favorable for him,
for that part of the habitation would be plunged in silence
when the last light had gone out. And that was exactly
what happened.
Pescade glided along the columns of the arcade, crept
across the flags of the gallery, passed the door of the skifa,
went round the end of the court-yard, and reached the
angle near the room from which Namir had come. He
opened the door, whicli was unlocked, and then, by the
light of an Arab lamp, placed like a night-light beneath
its shade, he gave a rapid glance round the room.
A few hangings suspended from the walls here and
there, a stool of Moorish pattern, cushions piled in the
angles, a double carpet on the mosaic floor, a low table,
with tlie fragments of a meal, a divan covered with linen
cloththat was what he first saw.
He entered, and shut the door.
A woman, dozing rather than sleeping, was reclining
on the divan, half covered in one of those burnouses with
whicli the Arabs wrap themselves from head to foot.
It was Sava Sandorf.
Point Pescade had no difficulty in recognizing the
young lady he had met so many times in the streets of
Ragusa. How changed she seemed to be. Pale as she
had been when in her wedding-carriage she had met the
funeral procession of Pierre Bathory, her attitude and the
expression of her face all told she had had to suffer.
There was not an instant to lose.
And in fact, as the door had not been locked, was not
Namir coming back? Perhaps the Moor guarded her
night and day! And if the girl could leave her room, how
could she escape without, help from the outside? Sidi
Hazam's house was walled like a prison.
Point Pescade bent over the divan. What was his as-
tonishment at a resemblance which had never struck him
beforethe resemblance between Sava Sandorf and Dr.
Antekirtt!
The girl opened her eyes.
In seeing a stranger standing near her in that fantastic
dress of the acrobat, with his finger on his lips, and an
appealing look in his eyes, she was at first bewildered
rather than frightened. But she arose, and had sufficient
coolness to make no sound.
" Silence!" said Point Pescade. "You have nothing
to fear from me! I have come here to save you! Behind
those walls your friends are waiting for you, friends who
will give their lives to get you out of Strcany's hands!
Pierre Bathory is alive"
" Pierrealive?" exclaimed Sava, restraining the beat-
ings of her heart.
"Read!"
And Point Pescade gave the girl a letter, which con-
tained these words
"Sava, trust him who has risked his life to reach you! I am
alive!    1 am here!                                  Piekke Bathory."
Pierre was alive! He was at the foot of these walls!
By what miracle? Sava would know later on ! But Pierre
was there.
" Let us escape!" she said.
"Yes! Let us escape," answered Pescade. "But let
us have all the chances on our side! One question, Is
Namir accustomed to spend the night in this room?"
"No," answered Sava.
" Does she take the precaution of locking you in when
     she is away?"
"Yes."
" Then she will come back?"
"Yes!    Let us go!"
"Now," answered Pescade.
And first they must reach the staircase of  the minaret
you gave your
to gain the terrace.    Once they got there the rope that
hung down outside would render escape easy.
"Come!" said Point Pescade, taking Sava's hand.
And he was going to open tlie door when he heard steps
coming along the gallery. At the same time a few words
were pronounced in an imperious tone. Point Pescade
recognized Sarcany's voice.    He stopped at the threshold
"It is he!" whispered the girl. "You are lost if he
finds you here!"
"He will not find me," answered Pescade.
And throwing himself to the ground he then, by oneof
those acrobatic contortions he had often performed in
sight of an audience, wrapped himself up in one of the
carpets on the floor and rolled himself into the darkest
corner of the room.
At the same moment the door opened to admit Sarcany
and Namir, who shut it behind them.
Sava resumed her seat on the divan. Why had Sarcany
come to her at that hour? Was this a new attempt to-
overcome her refusal? But Sava was strong now! She
knew that Pierre Bathory was alive, that he was waiting
outside.
Beneath the carpet which covered him Point Pescade
although he could not see, could hear everything.
"Sava," said Sarcany, "to-morrow morning we are
going to leave this for another residence. But I do not
wish to leave here until you have consented to our mar-
riage, until it has been celebrated. All is ready, and it is
necessary that now"
"Neither now nor later!" replied the girl, in a voice as
cold as it was resolute.
" Sava," continued Sarcany, as though he had not
heard this reply, " in the interest of both of us, it is nec-
essary that your consent should be free. In the interest
of both of us; you understand?"
" We have not, and we never shall have, any interest in
common."
"Take care!   I may remind you that
consent at Ragusa."
" For reasons which no longer exist."
" Listen to me, Sava," said Sarcany, whose apparent
calm hid the most violent irritation; "this is the last
time I shall ask you for your consent."
" And I shall refuse it as long as I have strength to do
so."
" Well, that strength we will take away from you," ex-
claimed Sarcany. Do not drive me to extremes! Yes!
the strength wliich you use against me Namir will take
from you, and in spite of you if necessary. Do not resist
me, Sava. The woman is here, ready to celebrate our
marriage according to the custom of my own country.
Follow me then!"
Sarcany advanced toward the girl, who quickly rose and
stepped back to the end of the room.
" Scoundrel!" she exclaimed.
"You will come with me! You will come with meP
exclaimed Sarcany.
"Never!"
"Ah!   Take care!"
And Sarcany, having seized the girl's arm, was violently
dragging her toward the skifa, with Namir's help, where
Sidi Hazam and the imam were waiting.
" Help! Help!" screamed Sava. " Help mePierre
Bathory!"
"Pierre Bathory!" exclaimed Siircany. "You arecall-
ing a dead man to your help!"
"No!   He is alive!   Help mePierre!"
The answer was so unexpected by Sarcany that hecoulct
not have been more frightened had he seen Pierre's ghost.
But he was himself again soon. Pierre alive! Pierre,
whom he had stabbed with his own hand, and seen buried
in the cemetery at Ragusa! In truth, it could only be
the idea of a mad woman, and it was possible that Sava,
in the excess of her despair, had lost her reason!
Point Pescade had heard all that passed. In telling
Sarcany that Pierre was alive, Sava had staked her hie,
that was certain. And in case the scoundrel offered any
violence, he so disposed his carpet as to be ready to appeal
on tbe scene instantly, knife in hand, and those who
thought he would hesitate to strike did not know Point
Pescade.
There was no necessity for him to do so. Sarcany
abruptly dragged Namir out of the room.    Then the key