hieftains whose future aid might be of much importance
to them. Away from the unconscious centre of many passions and
intrigues, excited by the novelty of their life, sanguine of the
ultimate triumph of his manoeuvres, and at times still influenced by
his companion, the demeanour of the young Emir of Lebanon to his friend
resumed something of its wonted softness, confidence, and complaisance.
They were once more in sight of the wild palace-fort of Astarte;
spurring their horses, they dashed before their attendants over the
plain, and halted at the huge portal of iron, while the torches were
lit, and preparations were made for the passage of the covered way.

When they entered the principal court, there were unusual appearances
of some recent and considerable occurrence: groups of Turkish soldiers,
disarmed, reclining camels, baggage and steeds, and many of the armed
tribes of the mountain.

'What is all this?' inquired Fakredeen.

''Tis the harem of the Pasha of Aleppo,' replied a warrior, 'captured on
the plain, and carried up into the mountains to our Queen of queens.'

'The war begins,' said Fakredeen, looking round at Tancred with a
glittering eye.

'Women make war on women,' he replied.

''Tis the first step,' said the Emir, dismounting; 'I care not how it
comes. Women are at the bottom of everything. If it had not been for the
Sultana Mother, I should have now been Prince of the Mountain.'

When they had regained their apartments the lordly Keferinis soon
appeared, to offer them his congratulations on their return. The
minister was peculiarly refined and mysterious this morning, especially
with respect to the great event, which he involved in so much of
obscurity, that, after much conversation, the travellers were as little
acquainted with the occurrence as when they entered the courtyard of
Gindarics.

'The capture of a pasha's harem is not water spilt on sand, lordly
Keferinis,' said the Emir. 'We shall hear more of this.'

'What we shall hear,' replied Keferinis, 'is entirely an affair of the
future; nor is it in any way to be disputed that there are few men who
do not find it more difficult to foretell what is to happen than to
remember what has taken place.'

'We sometimes find that memory is as rare a quality as prediction,' said
Tancred.

'In England,' replied the lordly Keferinis; 'but it is never to be
forgotten, and indeed, on the contrary, should be entirely recollected,
that the English,