urs' journey to
Cairo. The caravan was expected about this time, and therefore the
merchants soon had the pleasure of seeing their friends coming
from Cairo to meet them. They entered the city through the gate
Bab-el-Falch, as it is considered a happy omen for those who come from
Mecca to pass through this gate, as the Prophet went out of it.

On the market-place the three Turkish merchants took leave of the
stranger Selim Baruch, and the Greek merchant Zaleukos, and went home
with their friends. But Zaleukos showed the stranger a good
caravansary, and invited him to take dinner with him. The stranger
accepted the invitation, and promised to come as soon as he had made
some changes in his dress.

The Greek made every preparation to entertain his guest, for whom he
had acquired a strong liking on the journey; and when the dishes were
all arranged in order, he sat down to await the coming of his guest.

At last he heard slow and heavy steps in the hall that led to his room.
He arose to go and meet him and welcome him on the threshold; but no
sooner had he opened the door, than he stepped back horrified, for that
terrible man with the red mantle stepped towards him! He looked at him
again; there was no illusion; the same tall, commanding figure, the
mask through which the dark eyes shone, the red mantle with the gold
embroidery, were only too closely associated with the most terrible
hours of his life.

Conflicting emotions surged in Zaleukos's breast. He had long since
become reconciled to this picture of memory, and had forgiven him who
had injured him; yet the appearance of the man himself opened all his
wounds afresh; all those painful hours when he had suffered almost the
pangs of death,--the remorse that had poisoned his young life,--all
this swept over his soul in the flight of a moment.

"What do you want, monster?" exclaimed the Greek, as the apparition
stood motionless on the threshold. "Vanish quickly, before I curse
you!"

"Zaleukos!" spoke a well-known voice, from beneath the mask, "Zaleukos!
is it thus you receive your guest?" The speaker removed the mask, and
threw the mantle back; it was Selim Baruch, the stranger.

But Zaleukos was not yet quieted. He shuddered at the stranger, for
only too plainly had he recognized the unknown man of the Ponte
Vecchio. But the old habit of hospitality prevailed; he silently
beckoned to the stranger to take a seat at the table.

"I perceive your thoughts," said t