lf a
Jew. Now let me ask one more question. Which is the superior race, the
worshipped or the worshippers?'

Tancred looked up to reply, but the lady had disappeared.

CHAPTER XXVII.

_Fakredeen and the Rose of Sharon_

BEFORE Tancred could recover from his surprise, the kiosk was invaded
by a crowd of little grinning negro pages, dressed in white tunics, with
red caps and slippers. They bore a number of diminutive trays of ebony
inlaid with tortoiseshell, and the mother-o'-pearl of Joppa, and covered
with a great variety of dishes. It was in vain that he would have
signified to them that he had no wish to partake of the banquet, and
that he attempted to rise from his mat. They understood nothing that he
said, but always grinning and moving about him with wonderful quickness,
they fastened a napkin of the finest linen, fringed with gold, round his
neck, covered the mats and the border of the fountain with their
dishes and vases of differently-coloured sherbets, and proceeded,
notwithstanding all his attempts at refusal, to hand him their dainties
in due order. Notwithstanding his present tone of mind, which was
ill-adapted to any carnal gratification, Tancred had nevertheless been
an unusual number of hours without food. He had made during the period
no inconsiderable exertion, and was still some distance from the
city. Though he resigned himself perforce to the care of his little
attendants, their solicitude therefore was not inappropriate. He
partook of some of their dishes, and when he had at length succeeded
in conveying to them his resolution to taste no more, they cleared the
kiosk with as marvellous a celerity as they had stored it, and then two
of them advanced with a nargileh and a chibouque, to offer their choice
to their guest. Tan-cred placed the latter for a moment to his mouth,
and then rising, and making signs to the pages that he would now return,
they danced before him in the path till he had reached the other side
of the area of roses, and then, with a hundred bows, bending, they took
their leave of him.

The sun had just sunk as Tancred quitted the garden: a crimson glow,
shifting, as he proceeded, into rich tints of purple and of gold,
suffused the stern Judaean hills, and lent an almost supernatural lustre
to the landscape; lighting up the wild gorges, gilding the distant
glens, and still kindling the superior elevations with its living blaze.
The air, yet fervid, was freshened by a