interview and a parting which may leave us memories on which we can live
for a long time. The noble governor Amru is, among the Arabs, such
another as he whom we mourn was among the Egyptians . . ." Here the
letter ended; not quite three lines were wanting to conclude it.

The Kadi held the tablets for a few minutes in his hand; then looking up
again at the assembly, who were waiting in great suspense, he began:
"Even if the accused was not one of those who raised their hands in
mutiny against our armed troops, it is nevertheless indisputable, after
what has just been read, that he not only knew of the escape of the nuns,
but aided them to the utmost.--When did you receive this communication,
noble maiden?"

At this Paula clasped her hands tightly and replied with a slightly bent
head and her eyes fixed on the ground.

"When did I receive it?--Never; for I wrote it myself. The writing is
mine."

"Yours?" said the Kadi in amazement. "It is from me to Orion," replied
Paula.

"From you to him? How then comes it in your desk?"

"In a very simple way," she explained, still looking down. "After writing
the letter to my betrothed I threw it in with the other tablets as soon
as I had no need for it; for he himself came, and there was no necessity
for his reading what could be better said by word of mouth."

As she spoke a peculiar smile passed over her lips and a loud murmur ran
through the room. Orion looked first at the girl and then at the Kadi in
growing bewilderment; but the Negro started up, struck his fist on the
table, making it shake, and roared out:

"An atrocious fabrication! Which of you can allow yourself to be taken in
by a woman's guile?" Horapollo, who had recovered himself by this time,
laughed hoarsely and maliciously; the judges looked at each other much
puzzled; but when the Vekeel went on raging the Kadi interrupted him, and
desired that Orion might speak, for he had twice tried to make himself
heard. Now, with scarlet cheeks and a choking utterance, he said:

"No, Othman--no, no indeed, my lords. Do not believe her. Not she, but
I--I wrote the letter that. . . ."

But Paula broke in:

"He? Do you not feel that all he wants is to save me, and so he takes my
guilt on himself? It is his generosity, his love for me! Do not, do not
believe him! Do not allow yourselves to be deceived by him."

"I? No, it is she, it is she," Orion again asserted; but, before he could
say more, Paula declared with a