"I cannot do otherwise," said Mohammed, heaving a deep sigh. "I have pledged my honor that it should be so. I cannot recall my oath. But I can die, and die I will; no other resource is left me. I must choose between your father's death and mine. I cannot live dishonored and perjured. The tschorbadji can then release the prisoners; and he will do so, for he is kindly disposed, and it was I alone who wished to proceed with severity. And Osman will join you in your entreaties to his father. Now all is clear; now I know what it was I wished to say to you here on Bucephalus. Ah, still so much, and there is but an hour left me! How often have I gazed, from this place, at the heavens above, and the sea beneath; how often seen the sun rise in its splendor! But now that I have gazed in your eyes, Masa, all else is forgotten and extinguished, and for me there exists only the present; no longer a past. Yet I wished to see you once more before my death, and, I entreat you, grant me one request.

My mother, Sitta Khadra, once told me that when a man was about to die, Allah's holy spirit is shed upon him, and the best and purest of all the welis is sent down to the dying, that a heavenly atmosphere may surround him even here on earth. It seems to me that you are the weli sent by Allah to him who is about to die.

Therefore, remove your veil, that I may behold the brightness of your eyes and the crimson of your lips, and refresh my soul in the light of your countenance. Yes, die I must, and die I will, when I shall have seen the brightness of your eyes!"

"Look at me," said she, softly, "and hear what I have to say; I will not have you die! There must be some other means of saving my father. But you shall not die, for you--"

She spoke no further, but gazed dreamily upward at the heavens.

The sun had risen higher, and now gilded with its rays the crest of the rock. Its golden light illumined the maiden's unveiled countenance, and Mohammed regarded her in ecstasy. Beautiful was she, and faultless; the eternal morning of youth shone in the features that were still more gloriously illumined by the lustre of first love. She seemed to Mohammed the very embodiment of loveliness, chastity, and innocence. In his ecstasy he could find no utterance for that which filled his heart. His whole being, his whole soul, was reflected in his eyes. He lost all control over himself in the presence of this maiden this heavenly image.

"Love is my prayer, and prayer is my love. Look at me ye starlike eyes, and read in my soul what is written there in characters of living flame. 'I love you. I love you!' It is thus my heart speaks to you, and thus will it speak with my last breath. What I now feel is love and death combined heavenly bliss commingling with boundless suffering; I would weep, and yet shout for joy."

Suddenly, Mohammed bounded to his feet, clasped the maiden in his arms, and imprinted a kiss on her lips, a kiss that made her tremble in her inmost being. For a moment, she allowed her head to rest on his shoulder; she then gently released herself from his embrace, drew her veil down over her face, and turned to go.

"Oh, hear me, Masa, and do not be angry!" he cried, entreatingly.

"Allah has seen us, and now hears my vow of fidelity. You say I shall live. Then say, too, that I may live for you! I swear to you that I have loved no woman but you, that no other woman shall ever dwell in my harem. Oh, speak, will you be mine, will you love me, and be true to me?"

He paused, and awaited an answer, he waited long, but no answer came. It seemed to him that, with him, all Nature was awaiting an answer. The foliage of the trees ceased rustling, the songs of the birds were hushed, the eagle folded his pinions in the nest to which he had just returned, and gazed fixedly at the sun. The waves subdued their murmurings, and even the wind held its breath; all Nature was mute, and yet no answer came from the maiden's pure lips.

"O Masa, will you be true to me, will you love me, will you one day come with me to my home?" urged the youth in tones of passionate entreaty.

Her lips parted, and, in low, soft tones, like spirit-whisperings, she murmured, "Yes, I love you, and will be true to you."

He hears her, and bows down, and kisses the hem of her veil.

Sacred is the woman of a man's first love; sacred is the moment when he avows to her his love; sacred is the moment when he dares, for the first time, to approach and touch her.

But suddenly an emotion of horror thrills his whole being.

"O Masa, in my ecstasy, I forgot that I have come here to die, because I cannot live unless my honor is vindicated."

"To die?" said the maiden, with a gentle smile. "Why die now, when we have only just begun to live?"

"I must die that your father may live. I have already told you, Masa, that I have sworn by my honor, that the men of Praousta shall pay the double tax, as they are in duty bound to do. I have pledged my honor, that is, my life. Your father will not pay, and I have sworn by Allah and the prophets that the heads of the four prisoners shall fall if the double tax is not paid. You see now that I must die, that my honor may not suffer. When I am dead you can all settle the matter as you think best; the governor may then show mercy, and relieve them of the tax. But I cannot. And yet I cannot allow Masa's father to die, for Masa would weep for him, and her every tear would accuse me."

"You shall not die, Mohammed," murmured the maiden. "No, you shall not die. O Mohammed, listen to my words. I conjure you, do not be cruel. You say I should weep if you killed my father; but do you not suppose that Masa's eyes would also shed tears if her father should rob her of your life?"

"O Masa!" exclaimed Mohammed, in tones of ecstasy, as he extended his arms toward her.

She stepped back, and gently motioned to him not to touch her.

"Let us demean ourselves as we are commanded, as is becoming before Allah, the prophets, and the good spirits who hover about us; as is becoming in the presence of your mother, and of mine, who are looking down upon us; as a youth and maiden should who have not yet been united in the mosque. Do not touch me, but listen to what Masa has to say: You shall not die for my sake; you shall not fill my eyes with tears, and my soul with anguish. You shall live, Mohammed, that my whole existence may be yours, and yours mine! Let us think and dream of this; let us hope for this, and let us do all we can to make of this dream reality. and of this hope fulfilment. I shall go down to Praousta. I shall speak to them, and conjure them to pay this double tax in spite of my father's opposition. When they shall have done this, Mohammed, your honor will be saved, my father's life preserved, and his daughter's heart freed from anguish. The rest, Mohammed, we must leave to the good spirits, to the welis and the intercession of our mothers."

"But if the men should still refuse," said Mohammed--"and I know they will," he added, gloomily.

"They will not refuse. My lips will possess a charm to persuade them to do what we wish. They will not refuse. My love and anxiety for my father will give to my words such power that they must do, although with reluctance, what the daughter demands of them to save the father's life. I conjure you, Mohammed, wait patiently at least until the hour of second prayer. Prolong the time until then. Allow me to announce this to them; to bear a message to them from my father and from you; allow me to say: 'Mohammed will wait until the hour of second prayer; you can deliberate until then, and not until then, if it be necessary to pay the tax. Yet if, when the hour arrives, you do not appear, my father's life is lost, and you will be his murderers.' I will speak to them thus, and will entreat them with tears, and believe me, these men are good at heart, and full of tenderness and mercy. They, too, dearly love my father, the sheik, and they also love the ulemas, the wise men of the place, and they will surely yield to my entreaties if you will only wait, Mohammed."

As she finished speaking, she turned the gaze of her glowing eyes full upon him. He looked into the depths of these eyes, and a sweet tremor coursed through his whole soul.

"See how great is your power over me, Masa. Mohammed lays his honor, his pledged word, at your feet, and does what you request: I will wait until the hour of the second prayer. May Allah give strength to your words, and bless the charm of your crimson lips with success! I will wait. But one thing, Masa, tell me now, before you go."

"What is it? " asked she. But she seemed to know already, for she blushingly averted her eyes.

" Tell me that you love me, then I will wait. Tell me, Masa, do you love me?"

"How can I tell you what I do not understand?" murmured she. "I do not know what love is."

"You do not know what love is?" said he, gazing at her fixedly and almost threateningly. "Then tell me this, Masa, do you know that I love you?"

When he uttered these words his face was so near hers that she felt his breath on her cheeks--so near, that his eyes looked into the depths of her own and saw themselves reflected there.

"Do you know that I love you?"

A slight tremor possessed itself of all her being, and she bowed her head in confusion.

"Yes, Mohammed, I know that you love me."

He suddenly raised the white veil from her countenance, and softly and gently kissed her lips, as softly and gently as the bee touches with its wings the crimson rose in search of its sweetness. He then quickly let fall her veil again. "Swear, Masa, that no other man's hand shall ever raise this veil!"

"O Mohammed, how can I?' said she, in soft, pleading tones. "Am I not my father's slave, is not his daughter's life in his hands, must I not do what he commands? But this I can swear: that I will love you, Mohammed, that I will pray to Allah to bless our love. And now let me tell you, I not only know that you love me, but I also know that Masa's heart is yours, for it beats so loudly, so stormily, and I feel so happy. This I can swear, too, Mohammed, that my heart will remain true to you, and that I will rather die, than of my own free will allow another man to raise my veil."

"And this I can swear, Masa, that you shall not die," said, he, and his voice sounded almost harsh and threatening. "No, you shall not die, Masa! You shall live, and live for me, the husband of your future. And now, come, I will conduct you to the rocky stairway.

This you will permit me to do."

She gently shook her head, raised her hand, and pointed to the landscape that lay spread out below in the bright sunshine.

"No, Mohammed! You called me a white dove. Then let the white dove fly away on its mission. You would not be the huntsman that takes its life? See, beneath us lies Cavalla, where people are now beginning to move about. The eyes of gossips might see me, and the sharp tongues of calumny defame my father's daughter. That may not be, for the sake of my good name, and for your sake too, Mohammed.

Let me go down alone, and you remain until you see me descending the stairway. Do not go down until then. Do not give evil tongues occasion to suspect and speak ill of me. Let the white dove that is to wing her flight, when it pleases Allah, to the nest you have prepared for her, be pure and with. out reproach. Do not speak one more word, and do not look at me only see how weak I am: if you look at me again I shall stand still and wait till you command me to go.

Turn away from me and let me go. Let us both pray to Allah that our wishes may be granted."

He turns away as she requested, and gazes in the opposite direction, at the blue sky and the foaming sea. He sees her not, but the pain he feels tells him Masa is leaving; he knows, without hearing her footsteps, that she is walking from him. He remains above as she had requested. After a while he turns around and looks after her. He sees the white dove fluttering downward from rock to rock, and at last disappear on the stairway that leads to Praousta.

"May Allah bless her mission, that I may live, live for Masa, for her I love so passionately! All that I do shall henceforth be for her, and Mohammed's life will be bliss and sunshine."

CHAPTER IV.

MASA'S JEWELRY

THE village of Praousta had now assumed a busy look. The men had assembled around the mosque, and were conversing in eager, anxious tones.

When they saw the veiled girl approaching they bowed their heads respectfully, as is becoming in the presence of the unhappy. They knew the beautiful Masa, in spite of her veil. They knew she had gone up to her father to implore him to take pity on himself and on her. They now stepped up to her and asked if her father still lived, and if there was any hope of preserving his life.

"His life is in your hands," replied Masa. "I come to conjure you to save the life of my father, and of the noble old men, the ulemas."

"How can we, daughter of Sheik Alepp?" cried the men. "How can we save their lives?"