r duties with unflagging devotion and energy, satisfying
even the exacting Nubian, with whom she divided the watch at the bedside
of the unconscious deputy. Dr. Orfila was delighted, while Esperance and
Zuleika were overjoyed.

On--on--the sleeper still slumbered on! One--two--three--four quarters
after eleven tinkled in silvery numbers upon the delicate bell of the
clock, yet the closed eyelids and fixed lips moved not, gave no sign;
but for the light, though regular undulation of the chest, life itself
might seem to have fled forever. Yet life was still there!

How strange the bond which connects vitality with consciousness--the
body with the soul! And yet more strange is that phase of existence in
which the one moves on without the other. The mind sometimes is all life
when the body is dead, and oftener still is the body all life when the
mind seems gone. Mind, too, may frequently act independently, not only
of the body, as in dreams, but, also, of consciousness and of the heart;
while the body, as in somnambulism, may act altogether alone.

On--on--the slumberer breathed on, but he thought not, felt not,
perceived not. A revolution, an earthquake might heave around him, but
the convulsive throes of man or of nature would have been as nothing to
him. The brow would have remained as calm and as cold, and the cheek as
pale and as still, while, in all human probability, the faithful Nubian
would have sat as immovable upon his rug at the bedside of his beloved
master, and have gazed upon him as untiringly with his dark and
sleepless eye.

As the last quarter after eleven sounded, followed immediately by the
hour of midnight, a small door beside the bed noiselessly opened, and a
female figure in white silently entered the room; but not so noiselessly
was the entrance effected as to escape the ear of the vigilant Ali. He
glanced hurriedly around; then, as if familiar with the apparition, and
anticipating its approach, he rose, and, taking his rug to the further
extremity of the chamber, again laid himself down, like a faithful dog,
though not now to watch.

Meanwhile the lady, quietly approaching the bed, gazed long and
mournfully at the slumberer's pale yet noble visage; then, kneeling, she
buried her face in her hands amid the coverings.

She was, probably, forty; yet, in the full and faultless perfection of
her form--in her graceful and yielding motions--in her statuesque bust,
rounded cheek and night-black hair,