nis knew and understood him. "No," said one in answer to
the unspoken question; "Nor I," said another; "Nor I," said a third,
"Nor I neither," said a fourth, as Israel's rapid eyes passed down the
line of them.

He turned away without a word more, sat down by the pillar and looked
vacantly before him while the new prisoners told their story. Ben Aboo
was a villain. The people of Tetuan had found him out. His wife was a
harlot whose heart was a deep pit. Between them they were demoralising
the entire bashalic. The town was worse than Sodom. Hardly a child in
the streets was safe, and no woman, whether wife or daughter, whom God
had made comely, dare show herself on the roofs. Their own women
had been carried off to the palace at the Kasbah. That was why they
themselves were there in prison.

This was about a month after the coming of Israel to Shawan. Then his
reason began to unsettle. It was pitiful to see that he was conscious of
the change that was befalling him. He wrestled with madness with all the
strength of a strong man. If it should fall upon him, where then would
be his hope and outlook? His day would be done, his night would be
closed in, he would be no more than a helpless log, rolling in an
ice-bound sea, and when the thaw came--if it ever came--he would be
only a broken, rudderless, sailless wreck. Sometimes he would swear at
nothing and fling out his arms wildly, and then with a look of shame
hang down his head and mutter, "No, no, Israel; no, no, no!"

Other prisoners arrived from Tetuan, and all told the same story. Israel
listened to them with a stupid look, seeming hardly to hear the tale
they told him. But one morning, as life began again for the day in that
slimy eddy of life's ocean, every one became aware that an awful change
had come to pass. Israel's face had been worn and tired before, but now
it looked very old and faded. His black hair had been sprinkled with
grey, and now it was white; and white also was his dark beard, which
had grown long and ragged. But his eye glistened, and his teeth were
aglitter in his open mouth. He was laughing at everything, yet not
wildly, not recklessly, not without meaning or intention, but with the
cheer of a happy and contented man.

Israel was mad, and his madness was a moving thing to look upon. He
thought he was back at home and a rich man still, as he had been in
earlier days, but a generous man also, as he was in later ones. With
liberal hand he was di