Yet I could not help feeling sorry for them at the last, for
truly their end was awful.
They brought the prisoners up to us, and among them, his white robe
half-burnt off him, I recognised the hideous pock-marked Hassan-ben-
Mohammed.
"I received your letter, written a while ago, in which you promised to
make us die by fire, and, this morning, I received your message,
Hassan," I said, "brought by the wounded lad who escaped from you when
you murdered his companions, and to both I sent you an answer. If none
reached you, look around, for there is one written large in a tongue
that all can read."
The monster, for he was no less, flung himself upon the ground,
praying for mercy. Indeed, seeing Mrs. Eversley, he crawled to her and
catching hold of her white robe, begged her to intercede for him.
"You made a slave of me after I had nursed you in the spotted
sickness," she answered, "and tried to kill my husband for no fault.
Through you, Hassan, I have spent all the best years of my life among
savages, alone and in despair.
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