ghters of the unfortunate Siroco, and have taken from
them the talisman given them by their father. You have kept my son from
me, but I have found out your hiding-place and swear by the Holy Prophet
to punish your crime. The stroke of my scimitar is swifter than the
lightning.'

The unhappy Neangir on reading these two letters--of which he understood
absolutely nothing--felt sadder and more lonely than ever. It soon
dawned on him that he must be the son of the man who had written to
Mohammed and his wife, but he did not know where to look for him, and
indeed thought much more about the people who had brought him up and
whom he was never to see again.

To shake off these gloomy feelings, so as to be able to make some plans
for the future, Neangir left the house and walked briskly about the city
till darkness had fallen. He then retraced his steps and was just
crossing the threshold when he saw something at his feet sparkling in
the moonlight. He picked it up, and discovered it to be a gold watch
shining with precious stones. He gazed up and down the street to see if
there was anyone about to whom it might belong, but there was not a
creature visible. So he put it in his sash, by the side of a silver
watch which he had bought from the Jew that morning.

The possession of this piece of good fortune cheered Neangir up a
little, 'for,' thought he, 'I can sell these jewels for at least a
thousand sequins, and that will certainly last me till I have found my
father.' And consoled by this reflection he laid both watches beside him
and prepared to sleep.

In the middle of the night he awoke suddenly and heard a soft voice
speaking, which seemed to come from one of the watches.

'Aurora, my sister,' it whispered gently. 'Did they remember to wind
you up at midnight?'

'No, dear Argentine,' was the reply. 'And you?'

'They forgot me, too,' answered the first voice, 'and it is now one
o'clock, so that we shall not be able to leave our prison till
to-morrow--if we are not forgotten again--then.'

'We have nothing now to do here,' said Aurora. 'We must resign ourselves
to our fate--let us go.'

Filled with astonishment Neangir sat up in bed, and beheld by the light
of the moon the two watches slide to the ground and roll out of the room
past the cats' quarters. He rushed towards the door and on to the
staircase, but the watches slipped downstairs without his seeing them,
and into the street. He tried to unlock the door and