beautiful slice of melon at the hands of your servant."

Alischar could not be so rude as to refuse this: he ate the fruit, and
in a moment the fatal effects of it were apparent, for he sank into
utter oblivion, losing all his senses at once.

The Giaour rises softly the moment he perceives this, locks the door,
and putting the key of the house in his pocket, runs with all speed to
inform his brother of the success of his treachery. This was the old
Beschadeddin, our acquaintance, who, though he pretended to be a
Mussulman, had always remained an Infidel. It was he who had excited
his brother to all this knavery, in order that he himself might if
possible gain possession of Smaragdine. He now took his people with
him, provided himself with gold, mounted his mule, and repaired
directly to Alischar's habitation. His slaves seized Smaragdine by
force, threatening her with instant death if she dared to utter a
single cry, and so conveyed her in safety to the house of their
master.

"Ah, wretch!" says the old reprobate, "have I got you at last into my
hands? I swear to you, that if you do not consent to renounce Mahomet
I will make minced meat of you forthwith."

"Hack me and hew me into a thousand shreds, if such be your pleasure,"
answers she; "but know, wretch of wretches! that a Moslem I am, and a
Moslem I will die. Allah chastises those He best loves with
difficulties and dangers, and upon Him alone I set all my trust."

Upon this the wretched ancient gave orders to his female slaves to
prick Smaragdine's flesh with pins, and then to tie her up in the
corner of the kitchen, but on no account to give her a morsel to eat.
But even this last blow had no effect on Smaragdine, who merely
exclaimed as she had been doing before,

"God is God, and Mahomet is His Prophet!"

When poor Alischar, on his part, awoke from his sleep, and found
himself alone in his bed, fear unutterable came into his mind, and he
began to cry out for his Smaragdine like one possessed. But his cries
were as useless as his searches: he could find his love nowhere, and
concluded that the vile Giaour had deceived him for the sake of
abstracting her. At first he sat in a corner shedding hot tears, hour
after hour, by himself; but perceiving that his tears were of no
avail, he tore his garments, took a stone in each hand, and walked
through the town beating his breast alternately with these stones, and
crying out all the time in a loud voice of distr