George, beside him was an empty drinking-cup and an
exhausted wineskin.
"Holy Saint!" exclaimed the pious sentinel, "preserve us from all
Turkish infidels!" Iduna stole behind him. "Shall men who drink no
wine conquer true Christians!" continued the sentinel. Iduna placed
her hand upon the lock. "We thank thee for our good vintage," said the
sentinel. Iduna opened the gate with the noiseless touch which a
feminine finger can alone command. "And for the rise of the Lord
Iskander!" added the sentinel. Iduna escaped!
Now she indeed was free. Swiftly she ran over the wide plain. She
hoped to reach some town or village before her escape could be
discovered, and she hurried on for three hours without resting. She
came to a beautiful grove of olive-trees that spread in extensive
ramifications about the plain. And through this beautiful grove of
olive-trees her path seemed to lead. So she entered and advanced. And
when she had journeyed for about a mile, she came to an open and very
verdant piece of ground, which was, as it were, the heart of the grove.
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