Finally, Osman breaks the silence. "This, Mohammed Ali, is our third meeting. The first, you will recollect, was at Cavalla. Two boys, both ambitious, addressed each other in tones of mockery and derision. In the years that have since passed, I have often thought of the boy with the eagle eyes and the haughty, contemptuous smile.

Our second meeting occurred a few months since, after the massacre at Aboukir. You were my enemy, and yet you acted as my friend. You saved Osman Bey Bardissi's life. Then I said to you: 'I will remember this, Mohammed Ali, and in me you have found a friend for all time.'"

"Such were your words, Osman Bey Bardissi," replied Mohammed, his voice tremulous with anger, "and now I have received a proof of your friendship! You have had me snared like a wild beast, and abducted from my camp and my soldiers, to become a laughing-stock for them and an object of derision for your people."

Bardissi shook his head quietly. "You are in error, Mohammed Ali; none of my men know what has occurred, nor do I believe that yours do. No one shall ever learn, I swear it by Allah, where the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, has passed this night, or by whom he was abducted. No, no one shall ever learn it! You can rest assured, Sheik Arnhyn is not the man to babble like a woman when he should hold his peace, and Butheita is his obedient daughter. This matter shall be kept to ourselves. We meet to-day for the third time, and do you know why, Mohammed Ali? I caused you to be abducted because I promised you friendship. I did not wish to confront you as an enemy; against my wish a bullet might have chanced to strike you; and, I know not how it is, but I feel drawn to you, I feel a desire to be your friend. I wish to fight at your side, and not against you. We two, O Mohammed--we two, united--could make our land happy, great, and free, I feel assured. I read this in your countenance when we met on the ship. A voice seemed to whisper in my heart: 'He can assist you, he must be your friend!' Your eye glittered as I have seen but one other glitter; a proud consciousness of power was expressed in your features, such as I have seen in those of but one other man, and to this day I regret that he was our enemy, and that he has left us."

"And who was this man?"

"He was a French general. They called him Bonaparte, and he was a great man. It seems to me you resemble him, Mohammed Ali; like him you seem to stand gazing out upon the world, conscious of power and heroism, and resolved to bring it into subjection, as he was, but could not. For, observe, this was his mistake: he assumed a hostile attitude toward the Mamelukes, instead of seeking their friendship.

And this I now hope of you, Mohammed Ali, that you will make friends of the Mamelukes, and not remain on the side of our treacherous enemies the Turks. It does not beseem you. Your soul is great, and your actions heroic! Why are you with the Turks? It does not beseem you."

"It does not beseem me!" cried Mohammed excitedly; "truly it does not beseem me-"

"Be still, my friend, I pray you!" said Bardissi, interrupt ing him.

"Listen first to what I have to say. Do you know whence I come? Look at me! Do you see these dark spots on my clothing? 'Tis blood, Mohammed Ali, human blood. It splashed on me from many a wound! Go thither, Mohammed Ali; go to the plain of Damanhour. The bodies of the dead lie thick there--the bodies of dead Turks, Mohammed Ali!"

"And the bodies of many Mamelukes also, I should think," rejoined Mohammed quickly.

Osman Bey shook his head slowly. "Not many! You are in error, Mohammed Ali. We hurriedly counted them. Three thousand Turks lie dead upon the battle-field of Daman hour; of our men, of the Mamelukes, hardly sixty!"

"That is impossible!" cried Mohammed, in dismay.

"It seems impossible, yet it is the truth, Mohammed Ali," replied Bardissi, drawing himself up proudly. "I tell you, three thousand Turks and hardly sixty Mamelukes; and ours is the battle-field.

Those of the Turks who were not shot down or sabred have fled to bear to Cairo the disastrous intelligence--that eight hundred Mamelukes have vanquished over three thousand Turks led by Youssouf Bey, the _kiaya_ of the viceroy. The proud man is defeated, and may return to Cairo with the miserable remnants of his magnificence to announce his disgrace. I tell you, Mohammed, it was a wondrous battle! Youssouf Bey had drawn up his army on the plain of Damanhour, behind them their artillery. While we were forming in front of them, their artillery began to thunder; it was to carry death into our ranks, and it succeeded. Fearful was the first shock!

I began to fear lest my men should flinch. I called to them in a loud voice, and with them bore down upon the enemy with the speed of the lightning, regardless of the thundering artillery. But its discharges were murderous, and I saw that it was impossible to advance farther in this direction. We then turned, and, before the Turks could take measures to prevent it, fell upon their unprotected left flank and bore down upon their ranks. The first rank, surprised and terrified by my sudden flank attack, gave way, and their infantry was thrown into disorder. The blows of our ataghans fell thick and fast. The enemy turned and fled in wild disorder, we following them. Mohammed Ali, the slaughter was dreadful! Eight hundred Mamelukes vanquished over three thousand Turks! Sheik Arnhyn's Bedouins, who are now on the field, can show you the rich spoils. Let them rob the dead; for me and mine, who scorn to do this, spoils enough still remain; we have captured all their artillery, and munitions of war in abundance. 'It was a glorious day,' so say the Mameluke beys. 'It was a disastrous day,' will the viceroy, throned in the proud citadel at Cairo, lament.

"Do you now understand, O sarechsme, why I caused you to be abducted from your camp by my friend Sheik Arnhyn? I did it partly on my own account, and partly out of friend ship for you. You look at me inquiringly; you do not understand! I will explain. Intelligence had been brought to me that, should Youssouf Bey be defeated, you were to march rapidly to his assistance. I saw the messenger sent by him to call you to his assistance; you would have come too late. You could only have shared defeat had you come up with your troops, exhausted by their march, and attacked the Mamelukes, flushed with victory. They would have defeated you, and therefore do I consider it an act of friendship to have prevented your coming at all. Yet, I would not conceal the truth. Truly, Osman Bey Bardissi loves the truth, and therefore I tell you I also did it on my own account, and on account of my Mamelukes. I well know what mettle your other generals are made of! From Youssouf Bey and Taher Pacha the Mameluke Beys have nothing to fear; I know them, and know that they are poor soldiers; but of you, Mohammed Ali, I have a different opinion. When I saw you on the ship, I said to myself: 'This man will become a hero; woe to us when he confronts us in battle, but joy if we can win him to our side and make him our friend!' Therefore, I entreat you, be our friend, Mohammed Ali. Abandon the treacherous Turks, for treacherous they are! We saw this at Aboukir, and I think have aroused indignation in your gallant heart to see them massacre so many of our noblest beys through vile trickery and treachery. I can well understand that you cannot admit this while you are a sarechsme of the Turks; yet, be one of us, Mohammed Ali. Confess to yourself that the Turks are waging an unjust war, and that treachery is their favorite weapon. It is my firm conviction that we shall ultimately succeed in vanquishing and driving them from the country; but to do this we need strong men and heroic hearts. I cannot consent to their possession of such a man as yourself. Come to us, Mohammed Ali! You shall be our first and greatest! What Mourad Bey was for us, that shall Mohammed Ali be for the Mamelukes. We will bow to your wisdom in humility! We will obey all your commands! Be one of us, Mohammed Ali. Join us, and we will vanquish the Turks and reoccupy Cairo! You shall be enthroned in the citadel as our chieftain; you shall rule over Cairo and be our brother and comrade. Abandon the Turks! Now, Mohammed Ali, I have finished. Give me an answer!"

His eager gaze was fastened on Mohammed's proud, tranquil countenance in breathless suspense. The latter making no reply, Bardissi repeated, in tones of entreaty almost, "Answer me, Mohammed Ali!"

"Do you really suppose I can answer you?" said Mohammed, gently.

"Look at me; I wear the uniform of a Turkish general, and am in the grand-sultan's, and, more immediately, in Cousrouf Pacha, the viceroy's service. I am a soldier, who, wearing his uniform, must ever be mindful that he has sworn the oath of fidelity. Moreover, I am your prisoner. Do you suppose it would beseem the soldier to treat with his enemy against his commander-in-chief? Would it, do you think, become the prisoner to accept the proposals of him who for the moment is his master; would it not look as though the prisoner wished in this manner to purchase his freedom? And now answer me, Bardissi!"

"This is my answer," said Bardissi, bowing his head with a smile: "You are free, and no longer a prisoner. You were entrapped, and brought here, because I wished to speak with you. This I have done, and now you are free. And now your decision, if you please!"

"Osman Bey Bardissi is far too great a hero, and far too brave a soldier and honorable man, not to know what emotions agitate my soul. See, I wear a general's uniform, and my army corps is awaiting me! You cannot suppose that I will abandon them, or incite them to treason! As yet, I serve the viceroy alone," he continued in a lower voice, "and, as yet, I do not know that I can depend entirely on their fidelity."

"However, you do not say 'no' to my proposals?" said Bardissi.

"I say wait, Bardissi! He who wishes to attain fortune must not grasp at it with too quick a hand. He may catch hold of a corner of its mantle, but fortune itself might escape him. Only he who is calm and collected can depend on securing it, Bardissi. Therefore, I say, wait! Yet, this will I say, in addition," continued he, his countenance assuming a milder expression, "Give me your hand before we part. It is the hand of a brave man, and I am glad to press it in my own."

Bardissi joyously laid his broad, sinewy hand in Mohammed's, and grasped it firmly.

"I repeat it, Bardissi, wait. In eight days you shall have an answer from me. Perhaps it will, be communicated to you through common report--perhaps secretly. Therefore, name some one through whom I can communicate with you."

Bardissi made no answer, but glanced uneasily at Mohammed. The latter smiled.

"You are suspicious; you have already experienced too much treachery from your enemies not to fear Mohammed Ali might prove like the rest. I require no answer. In case of necessity, I will send you an answer through Mourad's widow, Sitta Nefysseh."

"Sbe is our mistress, and we all reverence and obey her as we should, the widow of our great chieftain."

"I know you all honor and love her!" said Mohammed, with a slight smile. "May I now depart?"

Bardissi inclined his head. "You are free! I shall ride on in advance, and deprive myself of the pleasure of accompanying you through the desert. We might be seen together, and suspicion excited against you. I ride in that direction. The dromedary will bear you back to your camp by a shorter route across the desert. She who brought you here will also accompany you back. She knows the way, and is discreet and cautious, like her father. My horse and servants await me behind that hill. And now let us part!"

"Let us part!" repeated Mohammed, extending his hand for a parting grasp.

"I will accompany you to the tent," said Bardissi," and give orders to have the dromedary saddled for you while you are strengthening yourself for the ride."

They walked to the tent side by side, and Bardissi called the sheik, and gave him his instructions.

Mohammed entered the tent. No one was there. He walked into the inner apartment, and so noiselessly that his step was not heard by her who stood behind the partition, by Butheita. She stood there, her head bowed down, and her gaze fixed on the spot where she had broken bread with Mohammed. Now, hearing her name murmured behind her, she started and turned around. He observed that her manner was sad, and that the smile had departed from her lips.

"You are sad, Butheita," whispered he, approaching her.

She cast down her eyes before his glance. "You are going away," said she. "Father is already saddling the dromedary, and you are about to leave us."

"I must go," said be, gently. "Duty calls me away, while love would gladly hold me back. But I am a man, and must listen to the voice of duty only. They say you are to accompany, and show me the way?"

She shook her head resolutely. "I beg you, say that you do not wish it, that you desire my father to accompany you."

"And why should I do so?" asked he, gazing searchingly into her countenance. "Do you hate me so that you are unwilling to pass an hour in my company? Did I conduct myself unbecomingly while we were together in the palanquin this morning? Why will you not accord me the happiness of riding across the desert with you again? Why do you hate me?"

She remained silent for a while, and then slowly shook her head.

"No, it is not that; it is something quite different. It pains me to see you leave. This morning, I could ride with you across the desert; then I did not know you, and did not fear you."

"And now you are afraid of me?" said he, gazing in her eyes intently.

"No, not afraid of you, but afraid of myself," said she, in a low voice. "I am afraid I might love you; and that may not be," cried she, in a firmer tone. "You are a great and distinguished man, and would laugh at the poor Bedouin child if she should regard you otherwise than as a great sarechsme, who had condescended to honor her father's tent by accepting his daughter's hospitality. I had best not ride with you. And I have already told father so."

"And the reason, too, Butheita? " said he, smiling.

"No, sarechsme! I told father I was weary with my long ride. He loves me dearly, and, although he had intended returning with the bey to collect the spoils from the field, he is, nevertheless, ready to accompany you if you will permit him."

"I am to permit you to cause me pain, and deny myself a great happiness, Butheita. Yet, I understand you, and must say that I rejoice to see you act as you do. I rejoice in you, my star-eyed desert queen! Be assured, Mohammed Ali will never forget you. And now, tell me, will you not quite forget me either?"

"No, that I will not, sarechsme."

"Will you also be mindful of your promise to your father to allow him only to kiss you, who shall one day lead you to his home?"

"I shall ever be mindful of this promise."

"Then, Butheita, then will I kiss you," cried he, and with passionate violence he clasped her in his arms, and pressed a kiss on her lips. He then turned and left the tent.

Butheita sank down upon the mat, and with outstretched arms she knelt there, motionless, a statue of ecstasy, of blissful love.

Mohammed stepped out before the tent, and beckoned to the sheik to approach.

"I beg that you will accompany me, sheik; it will be too fatiguing for your daughter to take this ride the second time."