ith thinking, and half forgetful of my
weakness, I tottered along the corridor, descended the grand stair, and
passed out into the court. How refreshing did the night air feel! how
sweet the fair odors of the spring, as, wafted by the motion of the
_jet d'eau_, they were diffused around! The first steps of recovery from
severe sickness have a strange thrill of youthfulness about them. Our
senses seem once more to revel in the simple enjoyments of early days,
and to feel that their greatest delight lies in the associations which
gave pleasure to childhood. Weaned from the world's contentions, we seem
to have been lifted for the time above the meaner cares and ambitions
of life, and love to linger a little longer in that ideal state of
happiness calm thoughts bestow; and thus the interval that brings back
health to the body restores freshness to the heart, and purified in
thought, we come forth hoping for better things, and striving for
them with all the generous ardor of early years. How happy was I as I
wandered in that garden! how full of gratitude to feel the current of
health once more come back in all my veins,--the sense of enjoyment
which flows from every object of the fair world restored to me, after so
many dangers and escapes!

As I moved slowly through the terraced court, my eye was constantly
attracted to the small and starlike light which glimmered through
the darkness; and I turned to it at last, impelled by a feeling of
undefinable sympathy. Following a narrow path, I drew near to a little
garden, which once contained some rare flowers. They had been favorites
of poor Josephine in times past; but the hour was over in which that
gave them a claim to care and attention, and now they were wild grown
and tangled, and almost concealed the narrow walk which led to the
doorway.

I reached this at length; and as I stood, the faint moonlight, slanting
beneath a cloud, fell upon a bright and glistening object almost at my
feet. I stepped back, and looked fixedly at it. It was the figure of
a man sleeping across the entrance of the porch. He was dressed
in Mameluke fashion; but his gay trappings and rich costume were
travel-stained and splashed. His unsheathed cimeter lay grasped in one
hand, and a Turkish pistol seemed to have fallen from the other.

Even by the imperfect light I recognized Rustan, the favorite Mameluke
of the Emperor, who always slept at the door of his tent and his
chamber,--his chosen bodyguar