gging their shoulders,
while they are smoking my choice tobacco, and drinking my sherbet of
pomegranate. And can I blame them?'

'A pure conscience may defy city gossips.'

'A pure conscience must pay the ransom out of my own coffers. I am not
over fond of paying two millions of piastres, or even half, for one
whose shadow never fell upon my threshold. And yet I must do it: do it
for my father-in-law, the Sheikh of the Recha-bites, whose peace I
made with Mehemet Ali, for whom I gained the guardianship of the
Mecca caravan through the Syrian desert for five years, who has twelve
thousand camels which he made by that office. Oh, were it not for you,
my daughter, I would curse the hour that I ever mixed my blood with the
children of Jethro. After all, if the truth were known, they are sons of
Ishmael.'

'No, no, dear father, say not such things. You will send to the great
Sheikh; he will listen----'

'I send to the great Sheikh! You know not your grandfather, and you know
not me. The truth is, the Sheikh and myself mutually despise each other,
and we have never met without parting in bitterness. No, no; I would
rather pay the ransom myself than ask a favour of the great Sheikh. But
how can I pay the ransom, even if I chose? This young Englishman is a
fiery youth: he will not yield even to an ambush and countless odds. Do
you think a man who charges through a defile crowned with matchlocks,
and shoots men through the head, as I am told he did, in the name of
Christ, will owe his freedom to my Jewish charity? He will burn the
Temple first. This young man has the sword of Gideon. You know little of
the world, Eva, and nothing of young Englishmen. There is not a race so
proud, so wilful, so rash, and so obstinate. They live in a misty clime,
on raw meats, and wines of fire. They laugh at their fathers, and never
say a prayer. They pass their days in the chase, gaming, and all violent
courses. They have all the power of the State, and all its wealth; and
when they can wring no more from their peasants, they plunder the kings
of India.' 'But this young Englishman, you say, is pious?' said Eva.

Ah! this young Englishman; why did he come here? What is Jerusalem to
him, or he to Jerusalem? His Intendant, himself a prisoner, waits here.
I must see him; he is one of the people of my patron, which proves our
great friend's interest in this youth. O day thrice cursed! day of a
thousand evil eyes! day of a new captivity----'

'