he Circassian, with the utmost
coolness.

"A painful and degrading death," suggested the agent, earnestly.

"I care not. I have faced death in too many forms to fear him in
any."

"Stubborn man!" continued the visiter, irritated in the extreme at
the cool decision and dauntless bravery of the prisoner, adding,
"you tempt your own fate by refusing this generous offer."

"No fate can be worse than to be separated from her I love. If that
is to be done, then welcome death; for life without her would cease
to be desirable."

"Do not be hasty in your decision."

"I am all calmness," was the reply.

"And shall I bear your refusal to leave the city, to the Sultan?
Weigh the matter well; you can return to your native land with a
purse heavy with gold, but if you remain you die."

"You have then my plain refusal of the terms. Tell the Sultan for
me,"--Aphiz in his acuteness easily penetrated the monarch's
disguise,--"tell him I thank him heartily for the generous means that
he afforded me when I was poor and needy, and whereby I have been
supported in his capital so long. Tell him too that I forgive him
for this causeless imprisonment, and that if it be his will that I
should die, because I love one who has loved me from childhood, I
forgive him that also."

"You will not reconsider this answer."

"I am firm, and no casualty can alter my feelings, no threats can
alarm me."

The visiter could not suppress his impatience at these remarks, but
telling Aphiz that if he repeated his answer to the Sultan he feared
that it would seal his fate forever, he left him once more alone.

Aphiz, as we have said, knew very well who had visited him in his
cell, and now that he was gone he composed himself as best he could,
placing Komel's bouquet in his bosom and trying to sleep, for it was
now night. But he felt satisfied in his own mind that his worst
expectations would be realized ere long, for he had marked well the
expression of the Sultan's face, and he fell asleep to dream that he
had bidden Komel and life itself adieu.

And while he, whom she loved so well, lay upon the damp floor of the
cell to sleep, Komel lounged on a couch of downy softness, and was
lulled to sleep by the playing of sweet fountains, and the gentle
notes of the lute played by a slave, close by her couch, that her
dreams might be sweet and her senses beguiled to rest by sweet
harmony. But the lovely girl forgot him not, and her dreams were of
him as