"how honest! how confiding! what faith in virtue! As for me, I am old, and have been in battle. When I find a wicked man under my feet, I crush him like a scorpion, that he may sting me no more."

T is easier to retain wealth in the hand of a prodigal, or to carry water in a sieve, than to lodge patience in the heart of a lover. The day had not dawned and the bird had not quitted its nest when the son of Yusuf awakened his companions, and arranged in a long file the camels loaded with the gifts of the sherif and the sultana. He impatiently awaited his beloved, whom Fatima had kept with her all night, that she might tell her the story of her love. A woman always loves the rival that she has ceased to fear. When Cafour opened the door of the harem and showed herself, uglier and more smiling than ever, Abdallah uttered a cry of surprise and joy. Could the woman behind the child, who stretched out her hand to him, really be Leila?

It was she, a lover could not be mistaken; yet it was no longer the Egyptian loaded with jewels, but a Bedouin who had always lived in the tents. Leila was clad in a long blue cotton robe,

which was gathered around the neck and fell to the feet. Over this robe was a red woollen burnoose, which covered her head. Her black tresses, arranged in numerous small braids, each ending in a coral bead, fell to her eyes, and added to the softness and brilliancy of her glance. In this simple costume, with her head uncovered, and her feet bare, Leila was the queen of the desert. The delighted Bedouins saluted her as she passed, as fresh and smiling as the dawn.

They set out. A recent storm had revived nature; the grass, wet with dew, and the freshly opened flowers, smiled on these happy hearts. Leila no longer hid herself in the back of the palanquin; Abdallah rode beside her, talking all the way, with his hand on the side of the litter. Cafour had never been more talkative and saucy.

"Oh, Abdallah," said Leila, "if you bear so hard on the side of the litter, you will overturn it and throw us both on the ground."

"Well, let go the camel's rein, then; don't refuse me the pleasure of holding your hand."

"Ingrate!" cried Cafour, "you have quite forgotten me. So, black Bedouin, you are carrying off the wife of the Calif Moyawiah !" And with a joyous voice, she struck up the Bedouin girl's song:

1

1 The song of the beautiful Bedouin girl Moyawiah is renowned among the Arabs. See Burton's "Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to El Medina and Mecca."

"Oh, take these purple robes away;

Give back my cloak of camel's hair,
And bear me from this towering pile

To where the black tents flap in air.
The camel's colt, with faltering tread,
The dog that all but barks at me,
Delight me more than ambling mules,
Than every art of minstrelsy.
And any cousin, poor but free,

Might take me, fatted ass, from thee."

They went on thus the whole day, unconscious of heat or fatigue. When joy follows suffering, do we think of aught else than joy? Hafiz, besides, was there to lead the caravan, and Abdallah did not need to quit the treasure that the Bedouins were bringing back in triumph.

Night was approaching when they came in sight of the tents of the Beni Amurs. The sun was setting beneath the arch of an immense rainbow that spanned half the sky, a roseate light illumined the sands of the desert, and golden rays flashed their gleams on the summit of the granite pyramids. In the distance were heard the shrill cry of the sakiah, the barking of the dogs, and the cooing of the pigeons. Suddenly a piercing shout announced the return of the travellers.

"What cry is that?" asked Leila.

"It is my mother's voice," answered Abdallah, dismounting from his horse. "You will have two to love you."

Halima soon appeared, greatly astonished at the

sight of so long a caravan.

"What are these?"

said she, pointing to the packages. "Has the son of Yusuf sold his horse and arms to turn merchant?"

"Yes, my mother," answered Abdallah; "and I bring you the rarest and choicest of wares, daughter to respect and assist you."

a

Leila alighted from the litter and threw herself into the arms of Halima, who looked at her with astonishment, and asked the name of her father and tribe. She was not less surprised at the sight of Cafour, and despite all Hafiz's speeches, returned to the tent with a sigh. She had little liking for a stranger woman. But when Abdallah came and seated himself by her side after unloading the camels, and Leila hastened with a basin of warm water to wash her husband's feet herself, "God be praised!" cried Halima; "this woman will be truly a handmaid unto her husband. My house has at last found a mistress; I can die in peace." And she tenderly embraced the daughter whom God had given her in his goodness.

"What is the matter, master?" said Cafour, who was lying at Abdallah's feet, with her head resting on her preserver's lap. "Has the smoke of your pipe got into your eyes? You look as if you were crying. Oh, your pipe has gone out; will you have a coal to light it?"

"Hush! hush!" said the Bedouin, stroking the negress's head as if caressing a faithful dog.