"THERE IS HOPE" It was dawn.

Ithobal the king stood without the gates of the tomb of Baaltis, the grey light glimmering faintly on his harness, and knocked upon the brazen bars with the handle of his sword.
"Who troubles me now ?" said a voice within.
"Lady, it is I, Ithobal, who, as I promised by Metem the Phoenician, am come to learn your will as to the fate of my prisoner, the Prince Aziel.
Already he hangs above the gulf, and within one short hour, if you so decree it, he will fall and be dashed to pieces.

Or, if you so decree it, he will be set free to return to his own land." "At what price will he be set free, king Ithobal ?" "Lady, you know the price; it is yourself.

Oh! I beseech you, be wise! spare his life and your own.

Listen: spare his life, and I will spare this city which lies in the hollow of my hand, and you shall rule it with me." "You cannot bribe me thus, king Ithobal.