her in this world or the next? The dungeon, the chain,
the lash, the wooden jellab--what else was left to him? Only the wail
of the poor whom he has made poorer, the curse of the orphan whom he
has made fatherless, and the execration of the down-trodden whom he has
oppressed. These followed him into his prison, and mingled their cries
with the clank of his irons, for they were voices which had never yet
deserted the man that made them, but clamoured loud at the last when his
end had come, above the death-rattle in his throat. One dim hour waited
for all men always, whether in the prison or in the palace--one lonely
hour wherein none could bear him company--and what was wealth and
treasure to man's soul beyond it? Was it power on earth? Was it
glory? Was it riches? Oh! glory of the earth--what could it be but a
will-o'-the-wisp pursued in the darkness of the night! Oh! riches of
gold and silver--what had they ever been but marsh-fire gathered in the
dusk! The empire of the world was evil, and evil was the service of the
prince of it!

Then Israel thought of Naomi, his sweet treasure--so far away. Though
all else fell from him like dry sand from graspless fingers, yet if by
God's good mercy the lot of the sin-offering could be lifted away from
his child, he would be content and happy! Naomi! His love! His darling!
His sweet flower afflicted for his transgression. Oh! let him lose
anything, everything, all that the world and all that the devil had
given him; but let the curse be lifted from his helpless child! For what
was gold without gladness, and what was plenty without peace?

Israel lit upon the Mahdi at last in the country of the verbena and the
musk that lies outside the walls of Fez. The prophet was a young man of
unusual stature, but no great strength of body, with a head that drooped
like a flower and with the wild eyes of an enthusiast. His people were
a vast concourse that covered the plain a furlong square, and included
multitudes of women and children. Israel had come upon them at an evil
moment. The people were murmuring against their leader. Six months ago
they had abandoned their houses and followed him They had passed from
Mequinez to Rabat, from Rabat to Mazagan, from Mazagan to Mogador, from
Mogador to Marrakesh, and finally from Marrakesh through the treacherous
Beni Magild to Fez. At every step their numbers had increased but
their substance had diminished, for only the destitute had joined them.
Nev