few minutes afterwards she was riding by Habeebah's side into the
town, through the Bab Toot across the Feddan, and up to the courtyard
of the Kasbah, which had witnessed the beginning of her own and her
father's degradation. Then, tethering the beast in the open stables
there, Habeebah took Naomi into her own little room and left her alone
for some minutes, while she hastened to Ben Aboo in secret with her
wondrous news.

"Lord Basha," she said, "the beautiful Jewess Naomi, the daughter of
Israel ben Oliel, will turn Muslima."

"Where is she?" said Ben Aboo.

"Sidi," said Habeebah, "I have promised that you will liberate her
father."

"Fetch her," said Ben Aboo, "and it shall be done."

But meanwhile Fatimah had gone to Habeebah's room and found Naomi there,
and heard of the vain hope which had brought her.

"My sweet jewel of gold and silver," the black woman cried, "you don't
know what you are doing. Turn Muslima, and you will be parted from your
father for ever. He is a Jew, and will have no right to you any more.
You will never, never see him again. He will be lost to you--lost--I
say--lost!"

Habeebah, with two of the guard, came back to take Naomi to Ben Aboo.
The poor girl was bewildered. She had seen nothing but her father
in Fatimah's protest, just as she had seen nothing but her father in
Habeebah's promises. She did not know what to do, she was such a poor
weak little thing, and there was no strong hand to guide her.

They led her through dark passages to an open place which she thought
she had seen before. It was a great patio, paved and walled with tiles.
Men were standing together there in red peaked caps and flowing white
kaftans. And before them all was one old man in garments that were of
the colour of the afternoon sun, with sleeves like the mouths of bells,
a silver knife at his waistband, and little leather bags, hung by yellow
cords, about his neck. Beside this man there was a woman of a laughing
cruel face, and she herself, Naomi, stood in the midst, with every eye
upon her. Where had she seen all this before?

Ben Aboo had often bethought him of the beautiful girl since he
committed her father to prison. He cherished schemes concerning her
which he did not share with his wife Katrina. But he had hitherto been
withheld by two considerations: the first being that he was beset with
difficulties arising out of the demands of the Sultan for more money
than he could find, and the next that h