Charolles, where
my family lived in happiness for more than a century, you respected me
when I was taken to your tent. I declared to you then that at the first
act of violence on your part, I would kill myself ... you ever treated
me as a free woman--"

"Mercy is the badge of the believer. I only obeyed the voice of the
prophet. But you, Rosen-Aer, did you not, shortly after you were brought
here a prisoner and Ibraham, my youngest son, was nearly dying, did you
not ask to take care of him the same as a mother would? Did you not
watch at his bedside during the long nights of his illness as if he were
your own son? It was, accordingly, in recompense for your services, as
well as in obedience to the behest of the Koran--_deliver your brothers
from bondage_--that I offered you your freedom."

"What else could I have done with my freedom? I am all alone in the
world.... I saw my brother and husband killed under my own eyes in a
desperate fight with your soldiers when they invaded the valley of
Charolles; and before those days I wept my son Amael, who had
disappeared six years before. I wept him then, as I do still every day,
inconsolable at his absence."

Rosen-Aer spoke these words and could not keep back the tears that
welled in her eyes and inundated her face. Abd-el-Kader looked at her
sadly and replied: "Your motherly sorrow has often touched me. I can
neither console you, nor give you hope. How could your son now be found,
seeing he disappeared when barely fifteen years of age! It is a question
whether he still lives."

"He would now be twenty-five; but," added Rosen-Aer drying her tears,
"let us not now talk of my son; I am afraid he is lost to me
forever.... But why say you that we see each other to-day, perhaps, for
the last time?"

"Charles Martel, the chief of the Franks, is advancing with forced
marches at the head of a formidable army to drive us out of Gaul. I was
notified yesterday of his approach. Within two days, perhaps, the Franks
will be upon the walls of Narbonne. Abd-el-Malek, our new emir, is of
the opinion that our troops should go out and meet Charles.... We are
about to depart. The battle will be bloody. God may wish to send me
death. That is why I came to tell you we may never meet again.... If God
should will it so, what will become of you?"

"You have several times generously offered me freedom, money and a guide
to travel through Gaul and look for my child. But I lacked the courage
and