ou thy
face from me?" Then like balm of healing came the words, "Cast thy
burden upon the Lord, and he will sustain thee; he shall never suffer
the righteous to be moved."

Dressed in his quiet, scholarly raiment, and quite unarmed, he set out
in search of Amzi. Arriving at the place, he saw none whom he knew. He
was stopped at the door.

"I wish to see the captain who has command here," he said.

"You are a peaceable-looking citizen enough," said a guard, "yet we have
orders to search all new-comers, and you will have to submit, stranger."

Yusuf was searched, but as neither arms nor tools were found upon him,
he was allowed to have audience with the captain.

"Ah!" said Asru, recognizing him at once. "What seeks Yusuf, a
Christian, of a follower of Mohammed the prophet?"

"I seek but the deliverance of two harmless, inoffensive friends," he
replied.

"A bold request, truly," said the other. "Yet have I not forgotten my
debt of gratitude to you. I have not forgotten that it was Yusuf who
nursed me through the foul disease whose marks I yet bear, when all
others fled;" and he passed his hand over his pock-marked face.

"Of that speak not," returned Yusuf, with a gesture of impatience.
"'Twas but the service which any man with a heart may render to a needy
brother. However, if you are grateful, as you say, you can more than
repay the debt, you can make me indebted to you, by telling me aught of
Amzi, the benevolent Meccan, whose hand would not take the life of a
worm were he not forced into it."

"He is here in chains," said Asru haughtily, "as every spy who enters a
Moslem camp should be."

"Amzi is no spy!" declared Yusuf emphatically.

"His sole object, then, was to free that half-witted poet?" asked Asru,
incredulously.

"It was none other. He loves him as his own son, as do I. Amzi would
suffer death willingly, Yusuf would suffer death willingly, would it
spare that poor, confiding innocent!"

The priest's eyes were flashing, and his tones bore witness to his
earnestness. He did not notice, nor did Asru, a pair of bright eyes that
peered at him from the chink of the doorway; he did not know that a face
full of petty, vindictive spite was partially hidden by the darkness
without, or that two keen ears were listening to every word he said.

"Yusuf," returned the captain in a low tone, "you are the only man who
has ever seemed to me good. Your words, at least, are ever truth. You
wonder, then, that I