s faith, but not for a handful of hay.'

'Ah! my dear _demoiselle_, what would my poor ladies say to see you
sleeping on the bare ground in a filthy hut?'

'I slept well last night,' returned Estelle; 'indeed, I do not mind! It
is only the more like the dungeon at Lyon, you know! And I pray you,
Hebert, do not get yourself killed for nothing too soon, or else we shall
not all stand out and confess together, like St. Blandina and St.
Ponticus and St Epagathius.'

'Alas, the dear child! The long names run off her tongue as glibly as
ever,' sighed Hebert, who, though determined not to forsake his faith, by
no means partook her enthusiasm for martyrdom. Hassan, however, having
explained what the purpose had been, Hebert was pardoned, though the
sheyk scornfully observed that what was good enough for the daughters of
a Hadji was good enough for the unclean child of the Frankish infidels.

The hay might perhaps have spared a little stiffness, but it would not
have ameliorated the chief annoyances--the closeness, the dirt, and the
vermin. It was well that it was winter, or the first of these would have
been far worse, and, fortunately for Estelle, she was one of those whom
suffocating air rather lulls than rouses.

Eyoub's hovel did not rejoice in the refinement of a partition, but his
family, together with their animals, lay on the rocky floor as best they
might; and Victorine's fever came on again, so that she lay in great
misery, greeted by a growl from a great white dog whenever she tried to
relieve her restless aching limbs by the slightest movement, or to reach
one of the gourds of water laid near the sleepers, like Saul's cruse at
his pillow.

Towards morning, however, Lanty, who had been sitting with his back
against the wall, awoke from the sleep well earned by acting as a beast
of burthen. The dog growled a little, but Lanty--though his leg still
showed its teeth-marks--had made friends with it, and his hand on its
head quieted it directly, so that he was able cautiously to hand a gourd
to Victorine. The Arabs were heavy sleepers, and the two were able to
talk under their breath; as, in reply to a kind word from Lanty, poor
Victorine moaned her envy of the fate of Rosette and Babette; and he,
with something of their little mistress's spirit, declared that he had no
doubt but that 'one way or the other they should be out of it: either get
safe home, or be blessed martyrs, without even a taste of purgatory.