ymaster, may his shadow never grow less. He giveth thee
till the morn to decide--Turk or martyr? With burning torches attached
to thy limbs thou art to be whipped through the streets with fiery
scourges in the sight of the people--such is the Sultan's decree. He
is a generous paymaster. After all, what need we pretend--between
ourselves, two Jews, eh?" And he winked drolly. "The sun greets
Mohammed every morn, say these Turks. Let to-morrow's greet another
Mohammedan."

Sabbatai sprang up with an access of majesty.

"Dog of an unbeliever! Get thee gone!"

"Till to-morrow! The Sultan will give thee audience to-morrow," said
the Hakim Bashi imperturbably, and, making a mock respectful
salutation, he withdrew from the apartment.

Melisselda had been dosing in an inner chamber after the fatigue of
the journey, but the concluding thunders of the duologue had aroused
her, and she heard the physician's farewell words. She now parted the
hangings and looked through at Sabbatai, her loveliness half-framed,
half-hidden by the tapestry. Her face was wreathed in a heavenly
smile.

"Sabbatai!" she breathed.

He turned a frowning gaze upon her. "Thou art merry!" he said
bitterly.

"Is not the hour come?" she cried joyously.

"Yea, the hour is come," he murmured.

"The hour of thy final trial and triumph! The longed-for hour of thy
appearance before the Sultan, when thou wilt take the crown from his
head and place it on--"

Instead of completing the sentence, she ran to take his head to her
bosom. But he repulsed her embracing arms. She drew back in
consternation. It was the first time she had known him rough, not only
with her, but with any creature.

"Leave me! Leave me!" he cried huskily.

"Nay, thou needest me." And her forgiving arms spread towards him in
fresh tenderness.

He looked at her without moving to meet them.

"Ay, I need thee," he said pathetically. "Therefore," and his voice
rose firm again, "leave me to myself."

"Thou hast become a stranger," she said tremulously. "I do not
understand thee."

"Would thou hadst ever been a stranger, that I had never understood
thee."

"Sabbatai, thou ravest."

"I have come to my senses. O my God! my God!" and he fell a-weeping on
the divan.

Melisselda's alarm grew greater.

"Rouse thyself, they will hear thee."

"Let them hear. God hears me not."

"Hears thee not? Thou art He!"

"I God!" He laughed bitterly. "Thou believest that! Thou who knowest
m