upon his companion with a scrutinising
glance. The moonlight fell upon the resolved visage of the Prince of the
Captivity.

'Honain,' he replied, pressing his hand, 'I thank thee. Thou knowest not
me, but still I thank thee.'

'You are resolved, then, on destruction.'

'On glory, eternal glory.'

'Is it possible to succeed?'

'Is it possible to fail?'

'You are mad.'

'I am a believer.'

'Enough. You have yet one chance. My brother has saddled your enterprise
with a condition, and an impossible one. Gain the sceptre of Solomon,
and I will agree to be your subject. You will waste a year in this
frolic. You are young, and can afford it. I trust you will experience
nothing worse than a loss of time, which is, however, valuable. My duty
will be, after all your sufferings, to send you forth on your adventures
in good condition, and to provide you means for a less toilsome
pilgrimage than has hitherto been your lot. Trust me, you will return to
Bagdad to accept my offers. At present, the dews are descending, and we
will return to our divan, and take some coffee.'

Some few days after this conversation on the terrace, as Alroy was
reclining in a bower, in the beautiful garden of his host, meditating
on the future, some one touched him on the back. He looked up. It was
Honain.

'Follow me,' said the brother of Jabaster.

The Prince rose, and followed him in silence. They entered the house,
and, passing through the saloon already described, they proceeded down
a long gallery, which terminated in an arched flight of broad steps
leading to the river. A boat was fastened to the end of the stairs,
floating on the blue line of the Tigris, bright in the sun.

Honain now gave to Alroy a velvet bag, which he requested him to carry,
and then they descended the steps and entered the covered boat; and,
without any directions to the rower, they were soon skimming over the
water. By the sound of passing vessels, and the occasional shouts of the
boatmen, Alroy, although he could observe nothing, was conscious that
for some time their course lay through a principal thoroughfare of
the city; but by degrees the sounds became less frequent, and in time
entirely died away, and all that caught his ear was the regular and
monotonous stroke of their own oar.

At length, after the lapse of nearly an hour from their entrance,
the boat stopped, and was moored against a quay. The curtains were
withdrawn, and Honain and his companion de