Note Page 246 — VATHEK: AN ARABIAN TALE BY WILLIAM BECKFORD (continued 2)

The irritated emir drew forth his sabre, presented it to Vathek, and stretching out his neck, said, in a firm tone of voice, “Strike your unhappy host, my lord: he has lived long enough, since he hath seen the Prophet’s vicegerent violate the rights of hospitality.”* At his uttering these words, Nouronihar, unable to support any longer the conflict of her passions, sunk down into a swoon. Vathek, both terrified for her life and furious at an opposition to his will, bade Fakreddin assist his daughter, and withdrew; darting his terrible look at the unfortunate emir, who suddenly fell backward, bathed in a sweat as cold as the damp of death.