ress of mind. Anger and fierce
hatred of the Franks overcame him whenever he recalled what had
happened in the Mission garden, and the recurring smart of his wounds
prevented his forgetting it for more than a minute at a time. But in
the morning, when pain had given place to a bruised stiffness, he
recovered the resignation which had been his before the preacher Ward
came with the tidings of his Emir's great danger. For the first time
since his return from the search for Wady 'l Muluk he took out his
paints and sketch-book, and went and sat beneath the ilex-tree,
awaiting inspiration. But the buzz of flies, of bees, and other
insects inseparable from the creamy morning sunlight set his mind
afloat, and prevented its settling on any one object.

In this happy state of indecision he was found by Asad son of
Costantin. That high-minded youth had come, as he explained, at no
small peril to himself, solely to warn his dear one to beware of ever
coming near the Mission. The indignation of the missionary and the
ladies with his conduct of the day before was intense; and no wonder,
for from the excitement consequent upon that scene in the garden the
Frank was back in bed again as ill as ever. All, to the very servants,
blamed Iskender; while as for the uncle of the sufferer, that ancient
blood-drinker had sworn to cut the son of Yacub into little pieces, and
give his meat to dogs--a form of punishment, Asad explained, which the
terrible old man had practised daily while in India at the expense of
the native inhabitants of that unhappy country.

"Wallah, he is a veritable ghoul; he is more blood-thirsty than the
worst among the Turks. Did I not warn thee of his state of feeling?
What ailed thee thus to rush into his arms?"

To all this Iskender's sole reply was:

"Allah is bountiful!"

"But wherefore risk thy body in his presence? Tell me, O my soul, what
imp possessed thee?" pleaded Asad in his most seductive tone. His
curiosity was real, and very great. "All demand to know. That old
ghoul vows he caught thee begging money of thy former patron--the Emir,
we used to call him, who is no more an Emir than I am, it turns out,
but only the son of a merchant in the city of Lundra--but I cannot
believe that he speaks truth in this. Inform me of thy motives, tell
what really happened; then I can defend thee. Is not my discretion
known? Have I not always stood thy friend? By Allah, I will keep the
matter secret, if