ide upon Nejid steeds and
dromedaries, with harness of silver! May she live among us for ever! May
she show herself to the people like a free Arabian maiden!'

'They are the thoughts of truth,' said the delighted Bedouins to one
another; 'every word is a pearl.'

And the great Sheikh sent a slave to express his Wish that Eva and her
maidens should appear. So she came to listen to the ode which the poet
had composed in her honour. He had seen palm trees, but they were not as
tall and graceful as Eva; he had beheld the eyes of doves and antelopes,
but they were not as bright and soft as hers; he had tasted the fresh
springs in the wilderness, but they were not more welcome than she; and
the soft splendour of the desert moon was not equal to her brow. She
was the daughter of Amalek, the daughter of a thousand chiefs. Might
she live for ever in their tents; ever ride on Nejid steeds and on
dromedaries with silver harness; ever show herself to the people like a
free Arabian maiden!

The poet, after many variations on this theme, ceased amid great
plaudits.

'He is a true poet,' said an Arab, who was, like most of his brethren, a
critic; 'he is in truth a second Antar.'

'If he had recited these verses before the King of Persia, he would have
given him a thousand camels,' replied his neighbour, gravely.

'They ought to be suspended in the temple of Mecca,' said a third.

'What I most admire is his image of the full moon; that cannot be-too
often introduced,' said a fourth.

'Truly the moon should ever shine,' said a fifth. 'Also in all truly
fine verses there should be palm trees and fresh springs.'

Tancred, to whom Baroni had conveyed the meaning of the verses, was also
pleased; having observed that, on a previous occasion, the great Sheikh
had rewarded the bard, Tancred ventured to take a chain, which he
fortunately chanced to wear, from, his neck, and sent it to the poet of
Eva. This made a great sensation, and highly delighted the Arabs.

'Truly this is the brother of queens,' they whispered to each other.

Now the audience was breaking up and dispersing, and Tancred, rising,
begged permission of his host to approach Eva, who was seated at the
entrance of the pavilion, somewhat withdrawn from them.

'If I were a poet,' said Tancred, bending before her, 'I would attempt
to express my gratitude to the Lady of Bethany. I hope,' he added, after
a moment's pause, 'that Baroni laid my message at your feet. When I