Ali having disposed of the booty of the Cafila, repaired to his own camp.

“God be praised for your return,” said his wife, who flew to embrace him, "how often are you absent now, O my lord, and I am left desolate in the tent !”

She was a type of Arab loveliness, was Zaïda; the bright crimson shone through her tinted, but transparent cheeks, her hair fell, a waving veil, over her shoulders, and her large eyes were turned inquiringly in his face. He returned her embrace, and then releasing himself from her soft arms, he sat down sorrowfully on the carpet, and threw down the soldier's belt.

"It is the will of God," he said; "there is gold, accursed be it, it has cost me my friend-Gazelle is dead!"

"Dead!" echoed Zaïda, and the beautiful creature again threw herself into her husband's arms, and wept on his bosom; she grieved for his loss, she grieved for her own; but she grieved more for what he had suffered. Her grief gave a new turn to his thoughts.

"Be consoled, my darling," he said, caressing her, and wiping away her tears. "God has given and God has taken; but have I not you? Have I not many blessings? Why do I complain? The gold will buy another horse; but—it will be another. Where is my boy? Where is Ishmael?”

"He went out early," she said, "but his return cannot be delayed: I see him coming even now."

A fine lad of twelve or fourteen now came up, holding a gun in one hand, and with the other leading

a large tawny greyhound, whose sedate physiognomy contrasted with the bright, joyous face of the young Arab, as he ran to meet his father. He paused a minute as he passed the spot where the soldier's horse was tethered, and then embraced his father.

"My heart is joyful that you have returned in peace," said he, "but-" and he turned an inquiring and pained look towards the place whence he missed his loved companion.

"Yes, my boy," said Ali," a stranger stands in the place of your friend, you will see Gazelle no more-he fell in a fray by the hand of an enemy.

"Gone for ever!" cried Ishmael: large tears rose to his eyes, which he could not control, and dashing down the stock of his gun, with childish wrath: "would that I had here the base-born that did the deed, even this tent should not protect him from vengeance!"

"Be silent, boy! you know not what you say. You are young. But learn that the sanctuary of this tent should protect even the murderer of thy father! But here, put away these things," giving him his sword, gun, and accoutrements.

Ishmael felt the justice of his father's reproof; but his young mind thought it a great hardship to forego a just revenge. Having put away the arms in a corner of the tent, he and his father joined in the meal which had been waiting, and was now sent out from the inner tent. By the time they had finished, an Arab was seen approaching, leading a fine iron-grey horse, completely equipped, and they went out to meet him.

"Sidi Hamed," said the Arab, "has sent you this horse to replace the one you have lost, and my lord desires you to be in readiness to mount in a few hours for a long journey.”

"Tell the Sheik," said Ali, "that I am grateful for his gift. Is not my life at his service?

await his orders."

Say I will

The horse having been consigned to an attendant. 'Go," said he to his son, "and tell your mother what you have heard-I cannot !"

76

CHAPTER VIII.

THE SULTAN.

IN the day succeeding the hunting party, the
Sultan, having taken his place in his au-

dience-hall, with his secretaries and officials in attendance, directed Abd el Aziz to have the executioners in readiness; and then ordered Abdslem to be brought before him. He was accordingly brought in heavily ironed, from the prison where he had lain all night. The pain from the treatment his hands had undergone was becoming excruciating; but he forced his features to assume an expression of composure; which was undisturbed by the preparations he saw making by the executioner as he passed; and on which he depended for his success in escaping from punishment. As soon as he had been forced to bow down before the Sultan, and was allowed to stand, and before waiting for the usual permission to speak: "May our lord's life be prolonged. Is this," said he, lifting up his tortured hands in chains, "is this the reward of loyalty? Shall the breath of private slander deprive my lord of his most devoted slaves? Where are my accusers? What is my crime?" and he looked boldly round on the audience.

The Sultan being in possession of such glaring

evidence of his guilt, was somewhat astonished at his assurance. "What mockery is this?" said he. "Is the slave mad? Read out this letter, that he and all may know that he dies with justice."

The Taleb, to whom the letter had been handed, opened the scroll, and read as follows:

"In the name of the One God, the Merciful, peace and his blessing. To our friend Sidi Abdslem Ibn el Hadj, Marockshee. We have received and considered the words that you have sent us, requiring money to seduce the soldiers of your master the Sultan; time shall not be prolonged before you will be met by a faithful messenger: exert yourself, be faithful, and be assured of our friendship. Peace. This-day of Moharram, 1248." Attached was the seal of the Sheik of the Sebaïe.

A thrill ran through the assembly, as they listened to the perusal of this flagrant proof of guilt, and felt that his days were numbered. The Sultan had watched the prisoner's countenance, which did not appear to be disturbed by any conviction of guilt, but rather assumed an air of greater self-complacency.

"And is that, my lord," said he, "the crime that is laid to your slave's charge? Alas! for the dream of the seller of earthenware! On that letter I had built a vision of rewards and honours from the Khalifa, and behold what has befallen me! Let my lord slay me, if so it is written; but let my lord hear me alone-and your servant's innocence will be white, and lord will hear matters of importance."

my