side.

"What shall you do in the morning, Sir Englishman?" said young
Alphonse, after many a sigh.

"God helping us, our course is clear enough--we may not deny our
faith."

"Perhaps you have one to deny," said the other, with another sigh.
"For me, I have never been religious."

"Nor have I," said Hubert. "I always laughed at a dear companion
who chose the religious life, even while I admired him in my heart.
But when it comes to denying one's faith, and accepting the
religion of Mohammed, it seems to me there is no more to be said. I
have got at least as much religion as may keep me from that,
although I am not a saint."

"I wish I had; but it is fearful: the toil in the sun, the chains,
the silence, the starvation, and then the impalement, the scourging
to death, the stake--or whatever else awaits us--at the end of the
six months; while all these scoffing youngsters, whose savage mirth
we have heard ringing about the place, are taught to exult in one's
sufferings--the bloodthirsty tyrant. But might we not in so hard a
case pretend to become Mussulmen, and, as soon as we can escape,
seek absolution and reconciliation to the Church?"

"He has said, 'Whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I
deny.' I never read much Scripture, but I remember that the
chaplain at Kenilworth, where I once lived as a page, impressed so
much as this upon my mind. No; I shall stand firm, and take my
chance, God helping me."

So they awaited the morning. And when it came, they were all
marshalled into the presence of the "Old Man of the Mountain."

"Yesterday you heard the terms, today the choice remains--liberty
and the faith of the prophet; slavery and death if you remain
obstinate. Those who choose the former, file off to my right hand;
those who select the latter, to my left."

There were some thirty slaves. A moment's hesitation. Then, at the
signal from the guards, about twenty, amongst whom was Alphonse,
stalked off to the right. Ten, amongst whom was Hubert, passed to
the left.

"Your selection is made. Every moon the same choice will be
repeated, until the end of the sixth, when no further grace will be
granted; and the death he has chosen awaits the unbeliever."

From this time the situation of the few who remained faithful
became unbearable. They slept in the cells we have described, as
best they could, rose at the dawn, and laboured under the
guardianship of ferocious dogs and crueler men till the sun set,
an