upon a strip of
herbage near the shore; which, with some fishing-nets spread out upon
the rocks to dry, informed me how our host obtained a livelihood.

As I went back towards the door, I met Rashid bringing our saddlebags.
He nodded to the woman, who still sat there motionless, and told me:
'She is mad, the poor old creature--but not dangerous. Fear nothing.
They are quite good people. It is strange, but he informs me she is
not his mother nor his wife, nor anyone by birth allied to him. And
yet he waits upon her, helpless as she is.'

Just then, the master of the tower appeared, and, going to the woman,
took her hand and raised her. 'Itfaddalu!' he said, with just the same
polite alacrity with which he welcomed us on our arrival, as if she,
too, had been an honoured guest. We all went down the broken steps
into the dungeon. A meal of fish and bread was set before us. The
woman took her food apart. The master of the house did not sit down
till she was satisfied; and, after supper, he set out a bed for her,
and then washed out the vessels, before he came again and sat with us.
By that time the old woman was asleep. Two lighted wicks, passed
through a piece of cork which floated in a bowl of oil and water,
roused the shadows of the vault. A sudden outcry at the far end of the
room made us both jump.

'Fear nothing!' said our entertainer. 'She is dreaming. Ah, poor lady!
Our Lord repay her goodness in the next life for all the evil she has
borne in this!'

'Is it permissible to ask to hear her story?' said Rashid.

The old man looked at me with a reluctant smile, as who should say:
'It is a sad tale. Would you really care to hear it?'

I nodded gravely, and, with a deep sigh, he began:

'Many years ago--how many it is now impossible for me to say, for,
dwelling here, I have lost count of time--a certain chieftain of the
desert Arabs had a son who loved the daughter of his father's enemy.
There was no intercourse between the houses, but the young prince of
whom I speak contrived to see the maiden and to meet her stealthily,
even riding in among the dwellings of her people at risk of his own
life and mine; for I must tell you that I am his foster-brother,
though not by blood a scion of the desert, and so I served him, as was
usual with us, in the quality of an esquire.

'Both tribes were of those Arabs which have villages for their
headquarters, without renouncing the old life of war and wandering.
Our village wa