He rises from the mat, and thanks his hostess for the repast in set phrases, and with a cold manner; he begs her to pay no attention to him, and not to allow herself to be disturbed in her household occupations by him. Butheita looks at him with astonishment-an expression of offended pride in her countenance.

"You desire to be alone, stranger? I can well understand that my foolish words annoy you. I will leave you alone, sarechsme. I see well you are a proud man, and it does not seem proper to you to be alone with a Bedouin's daughter long. I can not prevent it; forgive me. I will attend to my household affairs, as you suggest. I rely on your promise, stranger, not to leave the inner apartment."

"You can rely on my word," said he, earnestly. "I am your prisoner, your slave. I am so more completely than you think."

A charming smile again lights up her brown countenance. With a joyous nod of her head, she bounds out of the tent.

CHAPTER III

THE AGREEMENT.

THE sun was already low in the heavens. The palm trees in the neighboring wood of Petresin threw long shadows across the yellow sand, and yet Sheik Arnhyn had not yet come, and Mohammed waited in vain for intelligence concerning his captor's purposes.

He had again been seated with Butheita on the mat, and had eaten with her as in the morning.

He had endeavored to chat gayly with the Queen of the Desert; but her quick eye had read in his countenance that a cloud rested on his soul, and the brightness faded from her eyes.

She turned to him when he had risen from the mat and was walking thoughtfully, to and fro in the narrow tent. "Tell me, O stranger, is your heart so very sad? Is there nothing Butheita can do for you.

You are wearied; this space is too narrow for you. Your soul, whose wings are pinioned, would fly out into the world. The world without is very beautiful, I know."

"Do you know this world?" asked Mohammed, his lips smiling as he looked at her.

"Yes, I do," said she. "I have been with father to Tantah several times. While there I heard the scha-er tell their beautiful stories of Ey-Zahir. I listened with breathless attention. And then, too, I heard the female singers, the Gavasi. They sang beautiful songs, and the words and tones have often since resounded in my heart. Do you know, sarechsme, that often, when my father had gone out with his Bedouins to fight or to plunder, as was sometimes the case, then my only pleasure was to take down the zammarah bisoan, on which my mother played, and sing to its accompaniment the songs I had learned from the Gavasi. "Shall I sing them for you? Shall I?" But you must not laugh at me for repeating what the Gavasi sang in Tantah."

Without awaiting a reply, she took down the little bagpipe with its bag of goat-skin, and to its shrill accompaniment sang a quaint love-song with an admixture of the comic.

Her countenance had become grave, and a sweet fire burned in her eyes, while singing to the monotonous air in a shrill, vibrating voice, as was customary with the street-singers of the Egyptian towns. When she had finished her song, she turned the gaze of her dark eyes upon Mohammed with an inquiring expression. When she saw the smile on his countenance, and encountered the wondrous glance that seemed to penetrate to her very soul, she stated. "It pleases you," said she. "I read in your countenance that you are pleased.

Then I will sing you another song."

She took up her instrument again, and sang, in loud, joyous tones, a song about a gazelle-like maiden who had run away with her lover's soul, concluding with,

"Throughout the long, long night his sighing ceases not, his sighing for the dear gazelle that stole away his soul. Have pity on your lover; come back to me, gazelle. "

"Gazelle, come back to me! " cried Mohammed, with outstretched arms.

"Gazelle, have pity on your lover."

She seemed not to have heard him, bowed down over her instrument, and played in such loud, shrill tones, that it almost deafened Mohammed, who well understood Butheita's motive in playing so.

He smiled at her in silence. Butheita laughed.

"You see my song has gladdened you, and your countentance smiles again. O joy! See, there in the distance! Yes, there come two figures. That is my father, that is Sheik Arnhyn. Some one accompanies him. Rejoice, sarechsme; you will be relieved of your ennui!"

He laid his band gently on her shoulder, and regarded her with a long, earnest look, that recalled the roses to her brown cheeks.

"I do not rejoice, Butheita, Queen of the Desert. I have erected a throne for you in my heart, and my heart spoke to you in the words of your song--'Throughout the long, long night my sighing ceases not, my sighing for the dear gazelle that stole away my heart.' Then speak, gazelle, shall I take you with me? Will you live with me in the great city? Speak to me, gazelle."

She gazed far out over the yellow sand toward the two specks, in which her keen eye recognized two human figures, but in which he saw only two black specks that gradually increased in size.

"Answer me, Butheita. Their coming does not gladden me, and the thought of leaving you makes me sad. If you fancy I have found it dull here, you are in error. My heart is only too much occupied.

Butheita, sweetest of maidens, speak to me! Speak to me, gazelle!"

"See, sarechsme--father waves his hand!" cried she. "He already sees us standing here; his eye is as keen as an eagle's. He sees us!

Come, let us step back for a moment, I have something to say to you.

--To be sure I might have told you where we were," she continued, blushing, as she stepped behind the curtain. "I might as well have told you at the door, for father could not have heard it, although he could see us."

"Speak, Butheita, what did you wish to say? Speak!"

"I have forgotten, sarechsme. But I believe I wished to thank you for saying you had not found it dull here. It seems to me that only a moment has passed since I saw you yesterday, and yet it is an eternity. Yesterday lies far behind me, and today seems entirely different. The sun seems to be another, and I myself another, too.

You see I am a very silly child."

"And why do you falter? Why do I see tears in your eyes, Butheita?"

"Because I'm a foolish child! A strange feeling comes over me," said she, sadly. "You will now go; the man who is coming with father will take you away from us, and I shall never see you again."

"Then give me, O Butheita, give me one of the roses that blossom on your lips."

"That blossom on my lips?" said she, surprised, as she passed her little brown hand across her mouth. "A rose on my lips ? What does that mean, stranger?"

He bowed down over her. She felt his warm breath on her brown cheek.

"Give me a rose! Let me pluck a kiss from your lips!"

Butheita's cheeks blushed crimson. She put out her rosy lips, but then suddenly drew back and defended herself vigorously.

"Did I not tell you of my promise to my father? No man shall ever kiss me except the one who shall lead me to his tent as his wife. It is well that father is coming. Farewell, sarechsme, if I should riot see you again! Farewell! and let me keep my vow!"

She gently pushes him back, and flies out of the tent to meet her father. Sheik Arnhyn recognizes and hails her with a shout of delight.

"Butheita, have you succeeded, have you guarded the stranger well?"

"I have taken good care of him; come, father, and see!" She takes her father's arm, and, without looking at the man who walks close behind him, draws the sheik quickly to the tent.

But Mohammed, with a proud and grave expression of countenance, advances to meet them. Butheita now hardly recognizes, in the haughty sarechsme, with his imperious bearing, the stranger, who is no longer a stranger to her heart.

"Speak, sheik! How dared you lead me away, a prisoner, from my army?

Really, you were very presumptuous. Such conduct is calculated to excite my just anger and indignation."

The sheik made a profound obeisance.

"I trust you will forgive me, sarechsme; what I did was done at the command of my master. There he comes; he is called Osman Bey Bardissi. He comes crowned with victory, and will treat with you.-- Come, Butheita, what they have to say to each other does not concern us, we have done our duty, and I have performed what I promised. The Mameluke bey has also kept his promise, and my men are already on the battlefield; I, too, must speedily return, my child, for we are to bring home costly spoils."

While walking with her to the tent, he tells her of the splendid caftans, the golden vessels, the jewelled daggers, and the costly arms, that he has already gathered from the field of battle.

In the mean while the two men have approached each other. Now they stand face to face, Osman Bey Bardissi, and the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, and regard each other with a long, gloomy look. Both, it seems, wish to avoid being the first to speak a word of greeting.