done, she had scarce begun as yet.

"There is thy son, O father of Marzak."

"There is, O mother of Marzak."

"And a man's son should be the partner of his soul. Yet is Marzak passed
over for this foreign upstart; yet does this Nasrani of yesterday hold
the place in thy heart and at thy side that should be Marzak's."

"Could Marzak fill that place," he asked. "Could that beardless boy lead
men as Sakr-el-Bahr leads them, or wield the scimitar against the
foes of Islam and increase as Sakr-el-Bahr increases the glory of the
Prophet's Holy Law upon the earth?"

"If Sakr-el-Bahr does this, he does it by thy favour, O my lord. And
so might Marzak, young though he be. Sakr-el-Bahr is but what thou hast
made him--no more, no less."

"There art thou wrong, indeed, O mother of error. Sakr-el-Bahr is what
Allah hath made him. He is what Allah wills. He shall become what Allah
wills. Hast yet to learn that Allah has bound the fate of each man about
his neck?"

And then a golden glory suffused the deep sapphire of the sky heralding
the setting of the sun and made an end of that altercation, conducted
by her with a daring as singular as the patience that had endured it. He
quickened his steps in the direction of the courtyard. That golden glow
paled as swiftly as it had spread, and night fell as suddenly as if a
curtain had been dropped.

In the purple gloom that followed the white cloisters of the courtyard
glowed with a faintly luminous pearliness. Dark forms of slaves stirred
as Asad entered from the garden followed by Fenzileh, her head now
veiled in a thin blue silken gauze. She flashed across the quadrangle
and vanished through one of the archways, even as the distant voice of
a Mueddin broke plaintively upon the brooding stillness reciting the
Shehad--

"La illaha, illa Allah! Wa Muhammad er Rasool Allah!"

A slave spread a carpet, a second held a great silver bowl, into which
a third poured water. The Basha, having washed, turned his face towards
Mecca, and testified to the unity of Allah, the Compassionate, the
Merciful, King of the Day of judgment, whilst the cry of the Mueddin
went echoing over the city from minaret to minaret.

As he rose from his devotions, there came a quick sound of steps
without, and a sharp summons. Turkish janissaries of the Basha's guard,
invisible almost in their flowing black garments, moved to answer that
summons and challenge those who came.

From the dark vaulted entrance of