‘Dear cousin,’ she whispered, ‘what has brought you here?’
‘My grief at losing you.’
‘Oh! go away at once. If the ogre comes back he will kill you.’
‘I swear by your head, queen of my heart, that I have not found you only to lose you again! If I must die, well, I must!’
‘Oh, what can I do for you?’
‘Anything you like!’
‘If I let you down a cord, can you make it fast under your arms, and climb up?’
‘Of course I can,’ said he.
So Dschemila lowered the cord, and Dschemil tied it round him, and climbed up to her window. Then they embraced each other tenderly, and burst into tears of joy.
‘But what shall I do when the ogre returns?’ asked she.
‘Trust to me,’ he said.
Now there was a chest in the room, where Dschemila kept her clothes. And she made Dschemil get into it, and lie at the bottom, and told him to keep very still.
He was only hidden just in time, for the lid was hardly closed when the ogre’s heavy tread was heard on the stairs. He flung open the door, bringing men’s flesh for himself and lamb’s flesh for the maiden. ‘I smell the smell of a man!’ he thundered. ‘What is he doing here?’
‘How could any one have come to this desert place?’ asked the girl, and burst into tears.
‘Do not cry,’ said the ogre; ‘perhaps a raven has dropped some scraps from his claws.’
‘Ah, yes, I was forgetting,’ answered she. ‘One did drop some bones about.’
‘Well, burn them to powder,’ replied the ogre, ‘so that I may swallow it.’
