of my sister filled the foreground. He advanced beaming, and held out a paper to me: it was the pardon. I expressed my gratitude.

"You have but to give me an order," he replied, “and it shall be immediately executed. I hope, in future, that you will exert your power without hesitation."

He then thanked me for this new and unhoped-for favor I had granted him. Hosnah replied for me. Seated near her on the divan, I thought that, though veiled, I was no longer the unknown of our first interview; I felt troubled. The familiar ease of the relationship of my sister to the young Pasha gave the conversation a tone nearly of intimacy. Obliged before her to speak in Arabic, we could not avoid tutoyering each other. Though we strove to use an impersonal formula, the moment came when we were compelled to pronounce the first 'tu.' Hosnah seemed enchanted, and played with her amber beads. His reserve thrown aside, his amiable abandon and playful enjoyment showed me my suitor in a new light. In the course of our conversation, I was surprised to discover tokens of a very keen taste for beautiful works of art, and had the want of tact to express my astonishment.

with the most innocent air. We had reached the little door which communicates with the harem. She took leave of Mohammed. This time he held out his hand to me; I hesitated a moment, and then placed mine in it. It had the effect on me of an engagement that we thus sealed.

You may know that during the days which followed there was much talk of our betrothal. My father and Hosnah ridicule my doubts, which they believe to be insincere. Even Ali is in the plot. In truth, have not these doubts vanished? To what do I object? Urged by all, I have much fear I shall yield. Saïda is already busy over my toilets. The only question that seems to be considered is what a splendid wedding there shall be.

Tremble; behold me married!

XIV.

A CLOUD upon the azure of my skies. Hassan, that unhappy exile whom I wished to save, has not left Cairo. Discovered and menaced, the rash man has not believed my letter, so I am again tormented by the recollection of my foolish act. It is a long story, which I will tell you.

For more than a week I could not tear myself from the hands and the devotion of Hosnah,

"I will only own." I replied smilingly, "that I had never dreamed that politics would leave you leisure to become well informed and an artist."

I am not very sure that Hosnah did not take this remark for an impertinence, for she made a terrified sign. But this argument was so far above her ideas that, on seeing Seigneur Mohammed laugh, she was reassured, doubtless convinced that it was his indulgence on account of my bad education. I must tell you that, in spite of his great air of discreet reserve, with admirable quickness, without seeming to touch on it, the adroit diplomate found means of conveying to me the intelligence that it was his intention after a little time to make a sojourn in Paris. You may rest assured I shall not dissuade him. To be brief, after the interview had lasted an hour, Hosnah rose, and, while pretending to continue the conversation, led the way to the garden. I was forced to follow. At a turn of the path she stopped to gather a rose, and I was alone with the enemy.

thing to do in town, I escaped. I found Adilah ready to go out for one of her solitary rides on the bank of the Nile.

"I will go with you," I cried, taking a seat beside her.

This excursion was a lively pleasure to both of us. What things to tell each other! How many questions about my marriage! We soon were on the road beyond the town, and rode along the side of the river, having at our left an undulating plain which lost itself in a golden line on the desert, and seemed to die at the foot of the Pyramids, as if stifled by those giant piles. No one was driving. From time to time some fellah, or fellahine with jar upon her head, or an ass trotting along with its load, was the only visible sign of life.

The sun, bathed in a crimson horizon, cast its shining rays on the tops of the palms; some dahabichs dotted the river. White ibis with their long feet were in the stream, and flaming red ones flying among the weeds. It was near twilight, which dies so rapidly in this country, but the daylight still shone in softened hues, imprint

ment.

"And you failed to bow to me."

"Pardon me; I forgot everything."

so as to make up for the time we had lost. Safe from meeting any one, or being seen on this isolated road, we had raised our veils. We had now reached a sort of creek, which was used as a little port. Upon some barks, moored in the river, some children, half naked in their blue rags, diverted themselves. Suddenly Adilah uttered a

cry.

"What is the matter?" asked I.

Very much agitated by these events we regained the town, when, in driving close to the side-wall of the garden which joins my brother's palace, a branch of jasmine, thrown through the door, fell on my lap. Surprised, we looked at each other.

"It is our neighbor," said Adilah.

The terrified little monkeys ran upon the bank screaming. We got out, and Adilah distractedly implored her people for aid, but they only looked at us amazed. I repeated to them in Arabic that a child was drowning. Neither eunuchs nor saïs would stir. The screams increased; the poor little one instinctively struggled, but it was easy to foresee the frightful end, and no succor to look for, when happily at a turn of the road a horseman appeared. Attracted by our cries and gestures of despairing appeal, he pressed toward us. "A child is drowning," said Adilah, pointing with her hand to the little fellah who was trying to keep himself above water.

Without taking time to answer, the rider dashed off and forced his horse into the river. We saw him seize the child, who clung to him with a convulsive clasp; but the current is so rapid at this point that the horse, drawn along by it, could not regain the bank. We had some minutes of agony, and then the unknown conquered the danger and placed the child at our feet. The rider was Hassan !

Struck dumb by the sight, I let Adilah express her gratitude. With a voice shaken, no doubt, by the danger, he replied in French, his eyes fixed on us, and bowing very low.

His embarrassed manner increased my uneasiness. Suddenly, in the confusion caused by this accident, a word from one of the terrified eunuchs, who lifted his arms to heaven, reminded us that our veils were raised. I quickly lowered mine. After a deep reverence Hassan left us, and I remained in consternation at such a rash disregard of the warning I had sent him.

Still pale and trembling, astonished at our care of him, the child kept looking at us. At the noise, the mother came out of her hut-a large woman with a dark, energetic countenance, draped in the blue sarrau of the fellahine. She approached calm and indifferent, without any alarm or joy. ("What is written is written.") I was seized with regret at the idea of throwing back into his misery this poor little being who owed his life to us. I offered the fellahine money if she would give up her boy to me, and the bargain was concluded. We took him with us in the carriage.

me.

"It is justice, after all," she said. "He is repaying you."

This Oriental homage, crowning our adventure, seemed to be an acknowledgment, and I had not the cruelty to repulse it. I accepted the flower.

On my return to Chimilah I had to explain to my father the introduction of my adopted fellah into the palace. I owned my flight with Adilah, and related how he had been saved. He did not scold much. Be it understood that I passed over the incident of the veil, and the name of the cavalier.

The remembrance of this strange encounter haunted me. With the branch of jasmine before my eyes I was confounded.

"He repays himself," Adilah had said. I could no longer deceive myself: he knew the heroine of the beautiful prank at the window. But, how had he seen me? Through some opening, perhaps, that was hidden from me by the leaves. The inexplicable mystery haunts me continually.

To divert my mind from these awkward reflections, I made them bring the child, whom Nazly had already cleaned and dressed. He is a little fellow of about five years old, with bold wild eyes, quite beautiful in spite of his air like a little savage, and his shaved head. He is called Mansour, and I had some trouble in taming him. But he let himself be seduced by the gold in my costume, and I won a smile from him by the promise of the dress of an effendi.

Now, when I have exhausted all conjectures on this event so unlooked for, I can not avoid trembling. Has this unhappy, proscribed one ever received the note I sent? I am sure Zourah gave it to one of his people. A terrible anxiety assails me. Who knows? perhaps one of his own people betrayed him! Why, then, does he appear not to have been given up? I reflected on the puerile means I had employed. Men have the audacity which leads them to play with their lives in such a way that the peril increases the interest; why, then, should he have given credence to an anonymous message? Would a hidden friend be likely to avert a real danger from him?

Tormented by this idea, of which I could not get rid, that I perhaps still assisted in his danger, and feeling myself a coward to hesitate after his noble act, so simply performed, I resolved to attempt a last effort to save him, no longer recoiling before the miserable fear of letting him suspect whence came his safety. Was not this poor child, who owed his life to him, already a link between us? Could he scorn this debt of gratitude I had contracted? I immediately wrote a letter in an explicit manner, telling him that he had been seen and recognized, revealing to him in full all the danger I knew hanging over his head. For a signature, I slipped in my letter some jasmine-flowers.

Sure of Zourah, I ordered that this time she should put the letter in his own hands only. Under her habarah and veil, it was very easy for her to accomplish her mission without his people suspecting she was other than a slave. When the letter had gone I breathed freely, feeling confident of the success of my attempt, for the advice of a woman neither startles nor wounds; seeing me adopt such means, he could not doubt how imminent the danger was. An hour later Nazly returned. Judge of my amazement when she brought me this answer, which I read in ter

ror:

"What! It was you! This adorable pity which trembles for my life, does it come from your heart? Ah! may you be blessed for this word, for those flowers, which like the Gulnare of dreams, you let fall at the feet of the poor poet Hafiz. Yes! I will be wary to preserve this sad life, which exile has rendered so bitter that for a long time I have not wished to prolong it, and I will obey you. But I can not leave here! Do not ask it more. How could I go now? I have seen you! I know you! Ah! do not punish me for this cry which escapes from the depths of my soul! It only reaches you as the most humble gratitude-as toward a deity. I know you; I have seen you! I know who you are, and I would not trust my lips even to pronounce your name, But, in the midst of danger, I shall know that a good angel protects me. Blessed are you, for you have increased my courage and my faith!"

When I had finished the letter, I remained motionless, overwhelmed with astonishment. In writing my note I had yielded to an impulse of compassion. This unexpected answer caused me unspeakable terror. Under the humility of this respect and enthusiastic joy lurked an avowal which it was impossible for me to mistake. He loved me, and he dared to tell me he would not go away. On seeing this result of my imprudence, I asked myself by what madness I had been made guilty of it.

I read it

Yet I strove to struggle against these fears, which were possibly too great; perhaps his sentiments were only a poet's gratitude, decked in Oriental imagery, and the natural exaggeration of a service rendered by a woman. over again, weighing each word, and scrutinizing each thought which had dictated it. Alas! I could not deceive myself—I could not doubt. Each word was a flame. This unhappy man loved me, and, in the confusion and terror into which I am thrown, I can accuse no one but myself. Did I not do it all? The folly with which I amused myself at the window he took for encouragement-a hope, perhaps. Great Heavens! what must he have suspected as the cause of my imprudence? But no, his love, so humble, so resigned, which from afar, in his retreat, would cause him to sacrifice even his life for me, is a love without hope. He says so. Must he not know, then, that I am to be married?—that he can never approach me? And yet he will not fly; he will not abandon the place I live in, the house which speaks to him of me. Poor boy!

XV.

EVENTS have so crowded on each other, at the very moment when I believed myself delivered from all cause of uneasiness, that I have not been able to find time even to write you. Happily, all is done well this time, and in the consciousness of having repaired my error I can efface it by forgetting it. Some days had passed since those idle terrors of which no trace remained, when one morning Ali came to see me. During our conversation, I perceived, in spite of his efforts to be amused, a certain preoccupied air. He had come from the palace, where they had just discovered that a conspiracy exists, and that a relation of the Viceroy-a bitter enemy of Mohammed-is at the head of it. The name of Hassan was mixed with these rumors. I could not help blushing.

"Is he in danger?" I inquired.

"At least he has a good deal to dread," replied he. "Mohammed is a man with brains and energy."

I felt myself shiver; with a faltering voice I questioned him, and learned that our family interests, closely connected with those of Mohammed, disturbed him more than he chose to own.

The entrance of my sister Hosnah prevented our continuing the subject. On perceiving Ali, she could not repress a movement of her brow, which recalled the Hosnah of old; but she immediately controlled herself, and came to me holding out both hands. When she was seated, conversation recommenced, with some constraint, on indifferent subjects. In regard to Ali, she affected that sort of ignoring which con

veys the utmost contempt. My brother soon took leave of me. When he had gone

"Bah!" she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Do not make yourself uneasy about Mohammed; he has them in his grasp this moment, and, if he delays acting, it is only to crush them more completely when the right moment arrives."

I let her take me to Chcubrah. We were returning from our drive when a battalion of weary soldiers, covered with dust, and who seemed to have arrived after a long march, passed us. With a sort of joyous curiosity, Hosnah lifted the blind softly, to see them pass.

"We shall have news to-morrow," she said. Astonished, warned by a presentiment, I questioned her.

"Pshaw!" she replied, in a low tone, "it is a secret which concerns you. Mohammed will probably this night make away with enemies mad enough to dare to attack him."

I returned to Chimilah a prey to the most horrible pangs. In this lawless country, where an order is all that is requisite for an execution, they were going to take Hassan's life. Could I let them commit this crime, all the fault of which would be mine? It was no longer now a question of imprudence or rashness. I had a duty to fulfill, a reparation to make, which it would be cowardly to frustrate. I must speak to Hassan, must confess to him that I was the involuntary cause of the danger which hung over his head, show him his blind folly, and, if needful, implore him to fly for the sake of my future peace. After all, was I not convinced of his respect? Humble and resigned as he is, he would know how to suppress, in my presence, that adoration which he doubtless betrayed under a conviction that we should never meet. What had I to fear from a heart so grand, so strong in its abnegation? Does not my rank place me above suspicion? Besides, am I not already the wife of Mohammed? A soul like his could not mistake my interest, but would understand, in the dignity of an engagement, that any other sentiment would be

ciding; but could I live with the thought that his life was in my hands, perhaps? Each hour which passed would increase his peril, yet still I hesitated and drew back. I could bear it no longer. I called Nazly.

"Are you not devoted to me?" I asked.

66

"My dear mistress, even unto death !”

Well, you must assist me in saving an unhappy man, whom they intend to put to death this very night, for I have been the cause of his ruin.”

I then revealed my project to her. She was terrified, and offered violent resistance; but, seeing me so desperate, and ready to commit any folly, she yielded. Time passed. I gave her this note, which Zourah was to carry immediately, without knowing, any more than the two previous times, who had sent it:

“This woman will conduct you to where I await you."

A spray of jasmine still served me for a signature. When the time arrived, disguised with care, I started with Nazly, who often goes out thus, accompanied by some slave. A hackneycoach awaited us, and we got in. My decision had been made after many doubts and combatings, and yet I felt fears assail me anew. The sort of feverish energy which had sustained me in preparing for a departure so rash and dangerous abandoned me. I was amazed to have dared it. But did I not, after all, exaggerate the bearing of this interview? Could it have any other motive than a natural pity? A meeting for a moment, closely veiled, and in the presence of Nazly, had certainly nothing mysterious about it. Had I not already spoken to him in the presence of Adilah and her people? Enlightened as to his foolish enterprise, and told by me of its hopelessness, he could no longer hesitate to yield to the only course which could save him.

The coach stopped in a lonely road on the banks of the Nile, where the little white house