And, while these words are being whispered, he feels the cloth about his head, and that he can utter no cry or word; he also becomes aware that his hands and feet are securely bound.

"And to this I have come!" thinks he. "Thus am I to die, an object of ridicule to the world and to myself!"

And, strange to say, his thoughts suddenly revert to the past. Thus bound and gagged, had he once lain in another place. And he who perpetrated the horrible outrage, lives in splendor, and Mohammed has lived in vain, and must die unavenged! It is again Cousrouf Pacha who causes him to be bound and borne out. "Whither? whither? I ask! Do I not already know? Out to the Nile that glittered in the sunlight before me a few hours since. Oh, had I but known that it was to be my grave, and that Cousrouf had read and understood my thoughts! He felt that it was he or I, that one must go down; and now he stands secure on the heights, and I must sink down, down!"

Such are the thoughts that harrow his soul as he is lifted up by two strong arms and borne out into the night. He feels the quick breathing of him in whose arms he is borne; he is no light burden even for Sheik Arnhyn's strong arms.

"How heavy you are, sarechsme!" murmurs he, smiling. "How light the viceroy's army will be, when the heavy and distinguished sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, is wanting!"

All is still about them. Mohammed vainly endeavors to cry out, to release his hands; he is securely bound, and his lips can utter no word.

They stop at last, and Arnhyn speaks, but in such low tones that Mohammed can understand nothing. He only hears another voice replying. Then he is lifted high and deposited on a soft cushion.

"Now, Butheita," murmured the voice of him who had borne him from the tent, "ride on to the tent with him, and keep him securely until our master, Osman Bey Bardissi, comes to speak with him! Guard him well, for you must know, my daughter, that, dearly as your father loves you, Butheita must die if he escapes. This, I swear, by Allah, so be on your guard, my daughter!"

"You can rely on me, Father Arnhyn," replied the soft voice of a woman. "I shall guard him as though he were my dearest treasure on earth; he shall not escape Butheita."

"Then farewell, my child! I must now hasten back, for to-morrow will be a day of battle. But I hope to bring you rich spoils in two days, and Osman Bey has promised to reward me well for my work. Hold him fast, Butheita; he is bound and gagged, and you have nothing to fear from him. Allah be with you, my child!"

And now they ride swiftly through the night. Whither? He knows not.

He lies bound on a cushion, and only feels, by the movement of the animal, and by the shaking and jolting his body undergoes, that he is on the back of a dromedary. Sometimes, when, as it seems to him, he is on the point of being hurled from his high seat, he feels himself grasped and placed in an easier position on his cushion by two arms, and then on they move again at a swift trot. He feels that they are riding through the desert. The camel's feet sink deep into the sand, and then, when the ground beneath becomes firm, their speed is increased, and lessened when it again sinks into the sand.

To Mohammed the ride seems to have lasted an eternity already.

However, a few hours only have passed, when the dromedary halts, and a sweet voice whispers:

"I am sorry for you; it is horrible to be borne on through the night this way, bound and gagged, your face covered. I should like to relieve you by removing the cloth. But if you are cruel, you might tear my arm with your teeth."

Mohammed shakes his head slightly, and she feels the movement in her arm that encircles his head.

"You shake your head and promise not to do so, stranger, and I will trust you. I will free your head and lips, but I must first bind you to the saddle, to make sure of you." She unwinds the shawl from her delicate waist, slips it around his body, and binds him securely to the palanquin; she then unties the knot binding the cloth that envelops his head and passes over his mouth. The cloth falls down and Mohammed breathes freer and looks up. It is a clear, starry night, and Butheita's eyes are accustomed to darkness, and see as well at night as in the daytime. She gazes down upon his countenance, and a sunny smile illumines her features. He sees her not; his eyes are still blinded; neither can he speak yet, he can only breathe more freely, and he eagerly inhales the fresh night air.

"Handsome is the stranger," said she, in a voice of wondrous sweetness. "Already a sarechsme, and still so young! I supposed my father had brought me an old gray-beard, and it had distressed me to torment you so, and now I see a strong young hero, and I feel doubly distressed at your being the prisoner of a poor girl."

He looks up, and now he sees the fair face with its starlike eyes sparkling down upon him. The night is clear, and the yellow sand whirled aloft by the camel's feet imparts a golden lustre to the atmosphere; the appearance of the horizon also announces that the rosy dawn is about to contend with the starry night. Mohammed sees the lovely countenance with its brown tint, and its large black eyes and crimson lips, disclosing, as they now smile, her pearly teeth.

"Pity me not, Butheita," murmured he. "To be the prisoner of a man would put the sarechsme to shame; but to be the prisoner of a houri of paradise, who holds him in sweet captivity, is, it seems to me, an enviable lot."

"You speak prettily, O stranger," said she, her countenance beaming with delight. "Your words come like music from your lips; such sweet words I never heard before. You speak as the scha-er sings, whom I once heard when with my father in Tantah. Oh, speak on, sing on, for songs round from your lips!"

"If my words are songs, yours are tones of the harp," murmured he.

"Oh, tell me, Butheita, where are we going? Who has commanded you to bear me away thus?"

"Did you not hear? I obey the commands of my father, who is in Osman Bey's service. I do not know what they want of you, yet I believe they fear you, and wish to keep you from taking part in the great battle to-morrow. Yes, I know they fear you, for you are a hero.

Now, I know how a hero must look, for you are a hero, and your eyes are as mighty as a host of armed warriors. Oh, now I understand why Osman Bey fears you, and why he offered my father so rich a reward to keep you from taking part in to-morrow's battle."

"That is it, that is then the reason I am led away captive," cried Mohammed, not in threatening or lamenting tones, but joyously, for he feels that Cousrouf has answered the question with which he had vainly tormented himself; he had hesitated, now he feels that he has advanced a step farther toward his aim. Now he knows what he has to do; Fate has pointed out the road to his goal through Butheita, and he feels that she will lead him on until he reaches the throne seen by his mother in her dreams, and becomes the avenger of her he loved, of his Masa.

She still gazed upon the upturned countenance of her prisoner, now lighted up by the rosy light of the morning sun; she is struck with the tone of his voice, and is surprised to learn that the sarechsme is not dejected at his captivity.

"You rejoice," said she, smiling, and again displaying her beautiful teeth. "You rejoice over your captivity."

"I should like to be such a captive forever, Butheita; it is heavenly to be encircled in these fair arms."

"You are singing your sweet songs again, and oh, they sound so sweet!" said she. And yet, as he attempts to lay his head closer to her shoulder, she timidly recoils with an anxious look in her eyes.

"Not so, stranger. Honor the hospitality of my house, for my dromedary is my house, and I wish you to be my guest. And, that you may see that Butheita is sensible of the duties of a hostess, accept this banana and refresh yourself; you will need it."

She takes two bananas from the bag that hangs at the side of the saddle, and with delight Mohammed sees her peel the rich fruit, which she hands him with a delicious smile.

"Eat, stranger; eat, and refresh yourself."

She has forgotten that he is bound, and that he cannot take the fruit from her hand.

"This heavenly fruit must be administered by your fair hand alone,"

said he. "As my hands are bound, you must hold it to my lips yourself. Oh, that they were to be refreshed with yours instead of the banana!"

She smiles and looks down, blushingly. She then breaks the fruit and brings it to his lips in little morsels. And each time he raises his lips so high, that they touch not only the fruit but also her delicate brown fingers. It was sweet play, and Mohammed forgets all else. This night, minutes have been as hours to him, and now he would have them become eternities. Lovely is this child of the desert that bends down over him; a whole world of maidenly purity and sweetness Fate has pointed out the road to his goal through Butheita, and he feels that she will lead him on until he reaches the throne seen by his mother in her dreams, and becomes the avenger of her he loved, of his Masa.

She still gazed upon the upturned countenance of her prisoner, now lighted up by the rosy light of the morning sun; she is struck with the tone of his voice, and is surprised to learn that the sarechsme is not dejected at his captivity.

"You rejoice," said she, smiling, and again displaying her beautiful teeth. "You rejoice over your captivity."

"I should like to be such a captive forever, Butheita; it is heavenly to be encircled in these fair arms."

"You are singing your sweet songs again, and oh, they sound so sweet!" said she. And yet, as he attempts to lay his head closer to her shoulder, she timidly recoils with an anxious look in her eyes.

"Not so, stranger. Honor the hospitality of my house, for my dromedary is my house, and I wish you to be my guest. And, that you may see that Butheita is sensible of the duties of a hostess, accept this banana and refresh yourself; you will need it."

She takes two bananas from the bag that hangs at the side of the saddle, and with delight Mohammed sees her peel the rich fruit, which she hands him with a delicious smile.

"Eat, stranger; eat, and refresh yourself."

She has forgotten that he is bound, and that he cannot take the fruit from her hand.

"This heavenly fruit must be administered by your fair hand alone,"

said he. "As my hands are bound, you must hold it to my lips yourself. Oh, that they were to be refreshed with yours instead of the banana!"

She smiles and looks down, blushingly. She then breaks the fruit and brings it to his lips in little morsels. And each time he raises his lips so high, that they touch not only the fruit but also her delicate brown fingers. It was sweet play, and Mohammed forgets all else. This night, minutes have been as hours to him, and now he would have them become eternities. Lovely is this child of the desert that bends down over him; a whole world of maidenly purity and sweetness permitted to wander freely through the desert, and not cooped up in the second apartment of the tent, and not compelled to cover my face with a veil. However, when I ride with father to Tantah, then, O stranger, I dress myself up as the women of the cities do! Then I wear a long silk dress and a splendid veil, and color my lips and hands with henna!"

"That is to say, Butheita, you make of the houri of paradise an ordinary human being. I should not like to see you when you look like other women. You are the Queen of the Desert, Butheita."

"How do you know that? So am I called by the Bedouins who are my father's subjects. Yes, they are very respectful to their sheik's daughter, and call me Queen of the Desert. They sometimes say,"

continued she, smiling: "'Her countenance shines like the sun, enkindling in flames the hearts of all who approach her.' I, however, hold myself aloof from them, and do not listen to what they say, else my father would become angry, and would deprive me of my liberty to roam about as I please. And now you know all, stranger, and know why I may not kiss you, though I would gladly do something to please the poor prisoner; but I have promised this to my father and to myself. Therefore, no more of this. Here we must halt. Look at the sublime image that stands there so grandly, and throws its black shadow far out over the yellow sand. That is the true Queen of the Desert. Let me turn the animal so that you can see our queen."

Mohammed looked up and bowed his head in awe before the monster image that stood before him. He saw a human face and a mighty figure towering before him in gigantic proportions. Yes, it was a human countenance! From out those eyes, which seemed to compass a whole world within their deep hollows, the grandeur and sublimity of the human mind appeared to speak to him. What majestic thought was reflected in that massive forehead? The eloquent mouth seemed to announce the grand mystery of the universe. The whole mighty countenance seemed to contain a heaven of sublime peace, and to be radiant with a happiness unknown to the human breast on earth, for man has suffered and suffers. Doubt, anxiety, care, and misery, have sojourned in every mortal breast; but this countenance, that towers like a mountain in its divine majesty, knows nothing of human doubt and suffering. Its face is radiant with divine, eternal tranquillity--with the peace of the universe.

"How grand, how sublime!" murmured Mohammed, gazing fixedly at the colossal image that has for thousands of years looked on man, and smiled on him from out the depths of its unfathomable eyes. The sphinx has looked calmly down upon generation after generation, upon men of every faith and religion, and has seen them pass away.

Heathens have become Christians, Jews, Mohammedans, and the latter in their turn have become converted to other faiths, and change upon change has taken place. The sphinx has looked down upon all this!

itself divine, unchangeable in the midst of all that has passed and passes away.