thine?' said Amalek.
'He comes to our land like his brethren, to see the sun and seek for
treasure in our ruins, and he bears, like all of them, some written
words to your father, saying, "Give to this man what he asks, and we
will give to your people what they ask." I understand all this: they all
come to your father because he deals in money, and is the only man in
Syria who has money. What he pays, he is again paid. Is it not so, Eva?
Daughter of my blood, let there not be strife between us; give me a
million piastres, and a hundred camels to the widow of Sheikh Salem, and
take the brother of the Queen.'

'Camels shall be given to the widow of Sheikh Salem,' said Eva, in a
conciliatory voice; 'but for this ransom of which you speak, my father,
it is not a question as to the number of piastres. If you want a million
of piastres, shall it be said that Besso would not lend, perhaps give,
them to the great Sheikh he loves? But, you see, my father of fathers,
piastres and this Frank stranger are not of the same leaven. Name them
not together, I pray you; mix not their waters. It concerns the honour,
and welfare, and safety, and glory of Besso that you should cover this
youth with a robe of power, and place him upon your best dromedary, and
send him back to El Khuds.' The great Sheikh groaned.

'Have I opened a gate that I am unable to close?' he at length said.
'What is begun shall be finished. Have the children of Rechab been
brought from the sweet wells of Costal to this wilderness ever accursed
to fill their purses with stones? Will they not return and say that my
beard is too white? Yet do I wish that this day was finished. Name then
at once, my daughter, the piastres that you will give; for the prince,
the brother of queens, may to-morrow be dust.' 'How so?' eagerly
inquired Eva. 'He is a Mejnoun,' replied Amalek. 'After the man named
Baroni departed for El Khuds, the Prince of Franguestan would not
rest until he visited Gibel Mousa, and I said "Yes" to all his wishes.
Whether it were his wound inflamed by his journey, or grief at his
captivity, for these Franks are the slaves of useless sorrow, he
returned as wild as Kais, and now lies in his tent, fancying he is still
on Mount Sinai. 'Tis the fifth day of the fever, and Shedad, the son of
Amroo, tells me that the sixth will be fatal unless we can give him the
gall of a phoenix, and such a bird is not to be found in this part of
Arabia.

Now, you are a great hak