"Stand inside the window," whispered the Prince. As she did so a coil
of rope fell on the balcony.
"Have you got it?" he asked.
"Yes," was the scarcely audible reply.
"Then don't trust to your own strength. Give it a turn around the
balcony rail."
"I have done so," she whispered.
Although he could not see her because of the darkness, she saw him
silhouetted against the night sky.
He tested the loop, putting his foot in it and pulling at the rope with
both hands. Then he put the rope round the corner support of the
balcony.
"Are you sure the rope is strong enough?" she asked. "Who bought it?"
"Pietro got it for me. It is strong enough to hold ten men."
His foot was in the loop, and he slung himself from his balcony,
holding the rope with both hands.
"Let it go very gently," he said. "I will tell you when you have
lowered enough."
Holding the end of the rope firmly, the girl let it out inch by inch.
"That is enough," the Prince said at last; and she held him where he
was, leaning over the balcony towards him.
"Prince Padema," she said to him.
"Ah!" cried the man with a start. "How did you learn my name?"
"I have long known it. It is a name of sorrow to our family.
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