“Love — and hate!” she laughed metallically. “Loving me, still thou hast room to love another better. Hate and love! Thou great fool, it cannot be!”

“Pascherette, I love thee. Thou’rt entangled in my heart-strings. When I hate thee, it is because of that love, which will not brook treason in thee. Again, I love thee, golden girl; but, forget it not, I worship Dolores as I worship my gods!”

“Then wilt thou not seek her power for thyself?” whispered the girl subduedly, awed for the moment by his tremendous and solemn earnestness.

“Little one, bring Sancho as she bade thee. He has merited punishment. Yet tell him the Sultana will be just. His punishment will but fit the fault.