sheer exhaustion, a deep lethargic
slumber, apparently broken once or twice by troubled dreams. When she
awoke in the morning at the first sound of the voice of the mooddin, the
evil dreams seemed to be with her still. She appeared to be moving along
in them like one spell-bound by a great dread that she could not utter,
as if she were living through a nightmare of the day. Then long hour
followed long hour, but the inquietude of her mood did not abate. Her
bosom heaved, her throat throbbed, her excitement became hysterical.
Sometimes she broke into wild, inarticulate shouts, and sometimes the
black women could have believed, in spite of knowledge and reason, that
she was muttering and speaking words, though with a wild disorder of
utterance.

At last the day waned and the sun went down. Naomi seemed to know when
this occurred, for she could scent the cool air. Then, with a fresh
intentness, she listened to the footsteps outside, and, having listened,
her trouble increased. What did Naomi hear? The black women could hear
nothing save the common sounds of the streets--the shouts of children
at play, the calls of women, the cries of the mule-drivers, and now and
again the piercing shrieks of a black story-teller from the town of
the Moors--only this varied flow of voices, and under it the indistinct
murmur of multitudinous life coming and going on every side.

Did other sounds come to Naomi's ears? Was her spiritual power, which
was unclogged by any grosser sense than that of hearing, conscious of
some terrible undertone of impending trouble? Or was her disquietude no
more than recollection of her father's promise to be back at sunset, and
mere anxiety for his return? Fatimah and Habeebah knew nothing and saw
nothing. All that they could do was to wring their hands.

Meantime, Naomi's agitation became yet more restless, and nothing would
serve her at last but that she should go out into the streets. And the
black women, seeing her so steadfastly minded, and being affected by her
fears, made her ready, and themselves as well, and then all three went
out together.

"Where are we going?" said Habeebah.

"Nay, how should I know?" said Fatimah.

"We are fools," said Habeebah.

It was now an hour after sunset, the light was fading, and the traffic
was sinking down. Only at the gate of the Mellah, which, contrary to
custom, had not yet been closed, was the throng still dense. A group of
Jews stood under it in earnest an