A white dove had fluttered down from heaven, he had seen a fair swan full of innocence and loveliness at his side; and now, the white dove had transformed itself into a monster, and the fair swan had become an evil spirit. Yes, an evil spirit had assumed the form of a swan, and cast a wicked spell over his heart, and now--O Mohammed, learn to suffer! Rend yourself with your agony; press your hands convulsively to your breast till the blood trickles out from your finger-nails; cry out in your anguish, till the eagle, aroused in his nest, looks out with greedy eyes after the poor creature that has dared to disturb the king of the air! Let curses resound from the quivering lips that are as pale as those of the dead! Curse the swan for having become a ghin; the white swan for having transformed herself into a cat, and then awake from your despair. Behold her standing before you with the sweet expression on her delicate features, with the blushing cheeks as you raise the veil, with the crimson lips that grow more crimson still as yours touch them.

Behold her, in all her loveliness, and kneel down on the place where she stood, and passionately kiss the earth her feet have touched.

Bless her in your love, and curse her in the anger of your hatred!

First love is passionate in its bliss, burning its agony, and agony and bliss, fury and delight, are all pouring through your soul, and giving you the baptism of pain, making of the youth a man.

"Tear love from my soul, and enable me to tread it under foot!" he cries out fiercely, as he now rises from the place he had just touched with his lips. "Root out these memories from my breast, spirit of my mother! She to whom I here prayed, and swore fidelity, has proved untrue. Strike blind the eyes of my soul, that they may no longer see this horror! Make deaf my ears, that I may no longer hear the sweet voice that sounds like heavenly music! What was it she said, what were her words?

"'I will be thine, and love no other but thee!' she said. 'By my mother's spirit, I swear to you that no other man shall lift this veil from my face; I will be thine, alone!'

"It was music when she said it. It filled my heart with heavenly joyousness. And now it proves to have been evil spirits only, who had come up from the deep to deceive a poor heart! Oh, these memories, they will follow me like a black shadow throughout life.

In wild merriment and conflict, I shall be able to hush them in the noisy day; but, in the stillness of the night, they will come back to charm--no, to tear my heart! O Masa, Masa, what have you done!"

Overwhelmed with his agony, he sank to the ground, and kissed again and again the place where she had stood, and wept aloud.

"Mohammed!" suddenly exclaimed a voice behind him. "Mohammed Ali!

The man who weeps has no manly courage, and it would be vain to call on him for assistance!"

Is another evil spirit beside him? What woman is this who suddenly appears at his side, closely shrouded in a black veil? Is it another ghin come up from the deep?

"You are right," murmured he, "no one need longer hope for assistance from me; I will give vengeance and destruction to those who call on me for help!"

He springs to his feet and stares fiercely at the woman. "Away from me! Allah is Allah, the only one in heaven, and Mohammed is his prophet. Away from me, evil spirit!"

He exorcises this creature with the oath with which evil spirits are driven out. But it seems this spirit is not to be exorcised. The veiled woman remains quietly standing, regarding him sorrowfully.

"Mohammed, there are many who suffer, and yet do not break out into loud lamentations. Many a woman wails in the silence of her chamber; the lamentation of many a young girl resounds, unheard and unheeded, through the harem. I know a girl, Mohammed Ali, who weeps and laments, because she well knows that one whom she looked upon and greeted in the holy stillness of the morning as though he were her lord, entering the harem for the first time--that this one wrongfully accuses her, calls her faithless; yes, perhaps at this very moment, appeals to Allah for vengeance for a crime which she has not committed; for a wrong that does not burden her soul!"

"You know such a girl?" he cries, with loud, mocking laughter. "You are fortunate in knowing her. I do not know such a girl; I only know that they are all deceitful and traitorous."

"Then you assuredly do not know this one! She is as pure as an angel, and her name is Masa."

"Masa!" he exclaims, in loud and joyous tones. Then his countenance darkens, and, raising his clinched fists threateningly, he cries: "Masa! you deceive yourself. Of all deceitful women she is the worst. Do not say that I deceive myself with regard to her; I saw, with my own eyes, that which gives me death; that which will forever gnaw at my heart. Away from me, and announce to her who sent you that no woman shall ever deceive Mohammed again."

He turns to descend from the rock, but the woman holds him fast, regarding him with an anxious, entreating look.

"Do you wish to kill my darling, the beloved child of my mistress?

Listen, Mohammed! On her death-bed the mother confided to me her only child. Grasping her cold hand, I swore by Allah that I would hold her as my own, that I would watch over and guard her from all evil. This morning I found my darling in an agony of grief. She did not go out with the joyous crowd, but remained at home in her own little room. I saw her wringing her hands, and heard her entreating Allah to take her life. I entered her room and said to her: 'O Masa, you know that your Djumeila is true to you. Confide in her. Tell me all that grieves you. What is it that gives you pain?' After I had thus appealed to her for a long time, she arose from her knees, fell on my neck, and whispered in my ear a wondrous tale of the starry sky, of sunrise, and heavenly delight, of the bliss and pain of love. And I swore by Allah and the prophet, by the spirit of her mother, that I would never speak to another a word of what she had told me! But, because I love the child of my mistress, the child that is to me as my own, so dearly, I promised that I would go to the man she loves and tell him everything in her name."

"Then go seek him she loves! You will find him in the governor's palace; there he sits enthroned in the midst of his grand and brilliant harem. She longs to see the doors of this harem thrown open to her. Go to him and tell what you have to say. You will be welcome."

"I knew to whom I was to go, and I have already reached my destination. The heart of a woman who loves can see the absent like that of a sorceress. Masa said to me: 'Go up the rock to the highest point; there we vowed eternal fidelity to each other. I know he will be there! He will seek to wipe out the traces of our morning communion with his curses, perhaps, too, with his tears.' Now I am at the place to which Masa sent me, and here, too, is he to whom she sent me. Mohammed Ali, do not turn from me, do not shake your head.

Rather let us sit down, and listen to what Djumeila has to say."

He did not reply. He only made a motion as if to shake off the hand she had laid on his arm, in order to draw him down to her side. But now against his will he permits her to draw him down to a seat on the stone beside her.

"Listen, Mohammed! Masa is at home, locked in her room. She weeps and laments, and has sworn to me by her mother's spirit that she would die to-night. The waves are to close over her if Mohammed does not rescue her from disgrace and misery. Listen, Mohammed, and take what I say to heart. Will you do so, Mohammed!"

"Well, then, I will!" said he, after a short pause. "May Allah judge you if you are about to deceive me again!"

"Then incline your ear closer to me, that the ghins may not hear what I say and carry it further. What Masa confided to me is intended for you only."

He inclines his head close to hers. For a long time she whispers and speaks to him in impressive tones; and he listens at first against his will, but gradually a new life courses through his being, a delicate color suffuses itself over his pale cheeks, and his brow quivers with emotions of mingled joy and pain.

The woman continues to speak in low, earnest tones.

When she has finished, Mohammed bounds to his feet. Suddenly he is completely changed. His eyes sparkle, his lips smile and part to give utterance to a cry, to a loud, piercing, joyous cry, such as the eagle utters when he returns after a long journey and sees his young looking up and opening their beaks to greet him. He felt that he must cry out to relieve his breast. He extends his arms into the air, as though he saw before him the white dove, and wished to clasp it to his heart; as though he saw on the murmuring sea at his feet the swan approaching, singing to him the song of holy virgin purity and of chaste maidenly love.

"O how beautiful is the world!" he exclaims, exultingly. "How heavenly to live in it! But then this is not earthly delight, but the bliss of Paradise. I shall enter Paradise to-day, and be one of the blessed; I shall revel in heavenly joys already here on earth as man never did before. Come, Djumeila, and listen to my words. Come to this spot. See, here she stood this morning; here she exchanged with me vows of eternal fidelity, and this holy place I have consecrated with my tears and my despair. I was a fool; oh, forgive, Masa, forgive me, and I will repay you with life-long devotion. So long as a drop of blood flows in my veins will I love you and belong to you alone. Come, seat yourself beside me, Djumeila, and listen attentively to each word I shall speak to you."

CHAPTER VIII

VANISHED.

The inhabitants of Praousta had insisted on making the release of the sheik and the ulemas the occasion of general rejoicing, and the latter were compelled to yield to the general desire and take part in the festivities.

But it is well that evening is now come, and that the night is spreading her rest-bringing mantle over the earth. It is well that the opportunity has at last come to breathe freely in the stillness of one's chamber, and to thank Allah, with earnest prayer, for having given them a happy issue out of the cares and dangers of the preceding day.

The sheik has finished his prayer in the silence of his chamber. He now lightly ascends the stairway to the harem where his beloved child, his Masa, sojourns. Before the door of her chamber sits Djumeila, the faithful servant, and with upraised hand she motions to the sheik to step softly and make no noise, that Masa may not be disturbed.

"You know, master, that she has been complaining the whole day.

Anxiety and care for you, and the pain and exposure she has endured, have made my dove ill, and she has gone to her room to rest and restore her strength. She therefore requests you, through me, to allow her to remain undisturbed until tomorrow morning. She has not been able to sleep at all during the day, and has continually wept and complained; but at last, toward evening she partook of some food and fell asleep. Yesterday she was so courageous and strong, but today she has been weak and dejected. Before going to sleep she called me to her bedside and told me to bear her greeting to her father; and to say to him that she hoped to be entirely recovered by tomorrow morning, and would come down to breakfast to hand you, my master, your coffee and chibouque."

"It is well," said the sheik, softly. "Let my child rest, let my Masa sleep; tread lightly, and be careful that you do not disturb her. I, too, feel that I need sleep. Let the whole house repose, and avoid making any noise before tomorrow morning. Then I will come to her room to see her."

The old man took off his shoes and noiselessly descended the stairway to his bed-chamber. It was now still in the house. All Praousta was silent. The people were resting from the pleasures of today, and the anxiety and care of yesterday.

In Cavalla, also, all was now quiet. The windows of the tschorbadji's palace were dark, and silence prevailed everywhere.

The governor and his son Osman had retired to rest.

In the apartments occupied by Cousrouf Pacha darkness also prevails, and in the harem the blinds have been let down behind the latticed windows. One room alone is dimly lighted. On the table stands a silver lamp, which sheds a faint light through the spacious room, upon the gold-embroidered caftan of the pacba, and upon his proud, gloomy countenance. He rises from his seat, and walks hastily through the room. He then suddenly stands still. The pacha waits the arrival of the girl he has purchased with the blood-money given for her father.

All is quiet in the tschorbadji's palace, and also in the sheik's house. The windows are dark, the gate is locked. Now she will come: she has given her word; she has sworn by Allah; she has sworn by the spirit of her mother; she has sworn by all she holds sacred. She will come for the daughter of Alepp knows that one who breaks a treble oath is doomed to inevitable destruction, and walks a welcome prey to the evil spirits, to the ghins. Surely, she will not dare to do this! She will come--she must come.

Something rustles in the garden. The pacha steps hastily to the window, throws it open, and looks out eagerly into the darkness. It is well that the moon is at this moment concealed by clouds; he might otherwise now see her coming up the walk from the end of the avenue. No, nothing approaches. It is not the beautiful virgin, with the eyes of the gazelle, with the light, airy step. How beautiful she is, how fair, how lovely! Is she not yet coming? Does he not hear approaching footsteps? No, neither of the eunuchs is stealthily approaching to announce to his mighty master that the virgin has entered the harem.

He stands and waits, his face quivering with anger and impatience.

He is angry with the girl for daring to come so late. But come she will, and come she must; for whoever breaks the treble oath is lost before Allah and the prophet. He remains at the window, looking out into the quiet garden and dark night for a long time. The wind extinguishes the lamp that stands on the table. Now all is profound darkness. It is dark in the garden, and in the room. It is dark, too, in Cousrouf Pacha's breast.

"Woe to her, if she dares to break her oath! In that case, I will go, with my servants, in the broad light of day, to-morrow, to the sheik's house, and demand my property--my slave. Mine is she, for I purchased her with money which she accepted. Then, however, she shall not be my queen, but my slave--my servant. Come she shall, by Allah! I must possess her, for I love her with all the passion of my heart."

He bends forward, and listens attentively again. He hardly dares to breathe, and his heart throbs loudly as he anxiously gazes out into the garden. He does not notice that the hours are rapidly passing; to him it seems an eternity of waiting.

Without, at the garden-gate, the two watchful eunuchs are still standing. They, like their master, have been looking out into the darkness, and listening throughout the entire night.

"No sign of her yet," said one of the eunuchs to the other. "Woe to the girl if she dares to deceive our mighty master! She thinks, perhaps, he will abandon his claim. There will be a nice piece of work to be done tomorrow. Cousrouf Pacha, our mighty master, is not in the habit of being trifled with. He will send us down after his property, and there will be no lack of bloody heads in Praousta, tomorrow; for we shall certainly have to regain possession of this slave. He says she accepted the purchase-money, and she therefore belongs to the master who bought her. Will she come, or shall we have to get possession of her by force tomorrow?"