he guards
kept ward opened into one of the small gardens which adorned the
interior of the extensive edifice, with a tank in the centre, from
which a graceful fountain usually rose from a statuary group of marble,
representing Niobe and her children. The fountain was not playing at
this hour, and there was not light sufficient to throw the shadow of
the statues upon the still water below.

It was impossible to reach the garden without passing between the two
guards. Zarah could not tell whether they were indeed sleeping, and
the space left between them was scarcely sufficiently wide to admit of
her traversing it. Frightened, yet clinging to hope, Zarah, with her
jar on her head walked slowly and cautiously on. Just as she was
gliding by the guards, one of them started and caught hold of her dress.

"Ha! slave, what mischief are you after at such an hour as this?"

"My lord has bidden me dip my jar in yon tank," said Zarah, in as calm
a tone as she could command.

"I trow your lord has heated himself with a stronger kind of drink, or
he would not need water to cool him now," said the Syrian, releasing
Zarah, who, wondering at her own success, rapidly hurried into the
garden. She almost forgot, in her haste to escape, that it was needful
to dip her jar into water, as she was still within view of the Syrian.
The maiden had to turn back one or two steps, and bend over the brink
of the tank. Its cool waters refreshed her, as she dipped her slender
fingers therein.

"Now," thought Zarah, "there is a long dark passage to traverse--is it
on the right or the left? I scarce can remember my father's
directions; and a mistake now might be fatal both to him and to me.
Oh, may Heaven direct me!"

As Zarah glanced anxiously on either side, she perceived to the left a
narrow opening in the mass of buildings which enclosed the garden. The
opening was so utterly dark, that it looked to the trembling girl like
the mouth of a sepulchre, and she feared to enter into it. As Zarah
stood hesitating, she could hear Pollux behind her giving the password
to the sentries. His voice strengthened the courage of his daughter;
it was a comfort to know that he was near. Quitting the garden, Zarah
entered the gloomy passage. It was not quite so dark within as it had
appeared from without. The maiden could dimly distinguish a niche in
the wall, in which she deposited her jar, which could now only burden
her in her flight.

The passa