ly perceived that Rodoan Aga was in league with his
host, Fat Abraham, and he had no doubt that the departure of the Persian
was really connected with the political storm which threatened Syria. Even
Hafiz Bey, he felt assured, possessed some knowledge of the intrigues of
the Sublime Porte against Mohammed Ali's domination, and made use of this
mercantile affair as a veil to other projects. The more Sidney reflected,
the greater he saw his danger to be; and yet he was only the more
convinced of his utter helplessness amidst the mesh of intrigues with
which he was surrounded. He became seriously alarmed at his position, as
soon as he saw that no exertions of his own could possibly improve it. He
fell into a reverie on the doctrine of predestination in the East, which
seemed to him, in his present situation, infinitely more rational than it
had ever appeared before. The moral and religious disposition of the Arabs
and Turks began to appear to him as much the result of the air and climate
as the plague itself; and there seemed as much danger of their affecting
the intellects of a traveller who delayed too long within the sphere of
their operation, as of the plague affecting his body.

His escape was really hopeless. No more travellers were likely to pass
through Gaza during the summer, and Hafiz Bey was not likely to allow him
to communicate either with Jerusalem, Beyrout, or Damascus. He threw
himself on his sofa in despair, and remained plunged in a series of
conjectures, each one more disagreeable than its predecessor.

Achmet, after placing his master's breakfast before him, had sallied out
to the bazaar to collect news. In about an hour he returned, and found
Sidney still overpowered with melancholy thoughts. "Mr Sidney! Mr Sidney!
the coffee cold," shouted Achmet.

"Curse the coffee!" replied Sidney, whose mind naturally enough reverted
to the magazine filled with coffee in the room below him, of which he had
suddenly become the commission merchant. But he rose up to see how Achmet
bore their mutual misfortune. To his astonishment, Achmet's black face was
radiant with joy. Amazed at the change, for when he had last looked at
Achmet he was in a furious passion at their detention, Sidney
said--"Achmet, you seem pleased to stay in this accursed spot, Gaza!"

Achmet rejoined--"Me no pleased--me no help."

"Well then, Achmet, bring me some warm coffee, and let me hear what
consoles you?"

Achmet soon appeared with a