His firmness appeared to have deserted him. His eyes were
cast upon the ground. Apparently he was buried in profound thought, or
had delivered himself up to despair.
'Prepare the stakes,' said Alp Arslan.
An involuntary, but universal, shudder might be distinguished through
the whole assembly.
A slave advanced and offered Alroy a scroll. He recognised the Nubian
who belonged to Honain. His former minister informed him that he was
at hand, that the terms he offered in the dungeon might even yet be
granted; that if Alroy would, as he doubted not, as he entreated him,
accept them, he was to place the scroll in his bosom, but that if
he were still inexorable, still madly determined on a horrible and
ignominious end, he was to tear the scroll and throw it in to the arena.
Instantly Alroy took the scroll, and with great energy tore it into a
thousand pieces. A puff of wind carried the fragments far and wide.
The mob fought for these last memorials of David Alroy, and this little
incident occasioned a great confusion.
In the meantime the negroes prepared the instruments of torture and of
death.
'The obstinacy of this Jewish dog makes me mad,' said the King of
Karasme to his courtiers.
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