Godwin to her at length and speaking in
French, "but this man--"

"Loads up your baggage to take it to my inn. It is cheap, quiet
and comfortable--things which I heard you say you required just
now, did I not?" she answered in a sweet voice, also speaking in
good French.

Godwin looked at Wulf, and Wulf at Godwin, and they began to
discuss together what they should do. When they had agreed that
it seemed not wise to trust themselves to the care of a strange
woman in this fashion, they looked up to see the donkey laden
with their trunks being led away by the porter.

"Too late to say no, I fear me," said the woman with a laugh, "so
you must be my guests awhile if you would not lose your baggage.
Come, after so long a journey you need to wash and eat. Follow
me, sirs, I pray you."

Then she walked through the crowd, which, they noted, parted for
her as she went, to a post where a fine mule was tied. Loosing
it, she leaped to the saddle without help, and began to ride
away, looking back from time to time to see that they were
following her, as, indeed, they must.

"Whither go we, I wonder," said Godwin, as they trudged through
the sands of Beirut, with the hot sun striking on their heads.

"Who can tell when a strange woman leads?" replied Wulf, with a
laugh.

At last the woman on the mule turned through a doorway in a wall
of unburnt brick, and they found themselves before the porch of
a white, rambling house which stood in a large garden planted
with mulberries, oranges and other fruit trees that were strange
to them, and was situated on the borders of the city.

Here the woman dismounted and gave the mule to a Nubian who was
waiting. Then, with a quick movement she unveiled herself, and
turned towards them as though to show her beauty. Beautiful she
was, of that there could be no doubt, with her graceful, swaying
shape, her dark and liquid eyes, her rounded features and
strangely impassive countenance. She was young also--perhaps
twenty-five, no more--and very fair-skinned for an Eastern.

"My poor house is for pilgrims and merchants, not for famous
knights; yet, sirs, I welcome you to it," she said presently,
scanning them out of the corners of her eyes.

"We are but squires in our own country, who make the pilgrimage,"
replied Godwin. "For what sum each day will you give us board and
a good room to sleep in?"

"These strangers," she said in Arabic to the porter, "do not
speak the truth."

"What is