'Somebody has been seen,' replied Pasqualigo, and then he busied himself with his pipe just arrived.

'But nobody has seen somebody who was on the spot?' said Barizy.

'It depends upon what you mean by the spot,' replied Pasqualigo.

'Your information is second-hand,' observed Barizy.

'But you acknowledge it is correct?' said Pasqualigo, more eagerly.

'It depends upon whether your friend was present——' and here Barizy hesitated.

'It does,' said Pasqualigo.

'Then he was present?' said Barizy.

'He was.'

'Then he knows,' said Barizy, eagerly, 'whether the young English prince was murdered intentionally or by hazard.'

'A—h,' said Pasqualigo, whom not the slightest rumour of the affair had yet reached, 'that is a great question.'

'But everything depends upon it,' said Barizy. 'If he was killed accidentally, there will be negotiations, but the business will be compromised; the English want Cyprus, and they will take it as compensation. If it is an affair of malice prepense, there will be war, for the laws of England require war if blood royal be spilt.'

The Consul Pasqualigo looked very grave; then, withdrawing his lips for a moment from his amber mouthpiece, he observed, 'It is a crisis.'

'It will be a crisis,' said Barizy of the Tower, excited by finding his rival a listener, 'but not for a long time. The crisis has not commenced. The first question is: to whom does the desert belong; to the Porte, or to the Viceroy?'

'It depends upon what part of the desert is in question,' said Pasqualigo.

'Of course the part where it took place. I say the Arabian desert belongs to the Viceroy; my cousin, Barizy of the Gate, says "No, it belongs to the Porte." Raphael Tafna says it belongs to neither. The Bedouins are independent.'

'But they are not recognised,' said the Consul Pasqualigo. 'Without a diplomatic existence, they are nullities. England will hold all the recognise powers in the vicinity responsible. You will see! The murder of an English prince, under such circumstances too, will not pass unavenged. The whole of the Turkish garrison of the city will march out directly into the desert.'

'The Arabs care shroff for your Turkish garrison of the city,' said Barizy, with great derision.

'They are eight hundred strong,' said Pasqualigo.

'Eight hundred weak, you mean. No, as Raphael Tafna was saying, when Mehemet. Ali was master, the tribes were quiet enough. But the Turks could never manage the Arabs, even in their best days. If the Pasha of Damascus were to go himself, the Bedouins would unveil his harem while he was smoking his nargileh.'

'Then England will call upon the Egyptians,' said the Consul.

'Hah!' said Barizy of the Tower, 'have I got you at last? Now comes your crisis, I grant you. The English will send a ship of war with a protocol, and one of their lords who is a sailor: that is the way. They will call upon the pasha to exterminate the tribe who have murdered the brother of their queen; the pasha will reply, that when he was in Syria the brothers of queens were never murdered, and put the protocol in his turban. This will never satisfy Palmerston; he will order——'

'Palmerston has nothing to do with it,' screamed out Pasqualigo; 'he is no longer Reis Effendi; he is in exile; he is governor of the Isle of Wight.'

'Do you think I do not know that?' said Barizy of the Tower; 'but he will be recalled for this purpose. The English will not go to war in Syria without Palmerston. Palmerston will have the command of the fleet as well as of the army, that no one shall say "No" when he says "Yes." The English will not do the business of the Turks again for nothing. They will take this city; they will keep it. They want a new market for their cottons. Mark me: England will never be satisfied till the people of Jerusalem wear calico turbans.'

Let us inquire also with Barizy of the Tower, where was Besso? Alone in his private chamber, agitated and troubled, awaiting the return of his daughter from the bath; and even now, the arrival may be heard of herself and her attendants in the inner court.

'You want me, my father?' said Eva, as she entered. 'Ah! you are disturbed. What has happened?'

'The tenth plague of Pharaoh, my child,' replied Besso, in a tone of great vexation. 'Since the expulsion of Ibrahim, there has been nothing which has crossed me so much.'

'Fakredeen?'

'No, no; 'tis nothing to do with him, poor boy; but of one as young, and whose interests, though I know him not, scarcely less concern me.'

'You know him not; 'tis not then my cousin. You perplex me, my father. Tell me at once.'

'It is the most vexatious of all conceivable occurrences,' replied Besso, 'and yet it is about a person of whom you never heard, and whom I never saw; and yet there are circumstances connected with him. Alas! alas! you must know, my Eva, there is a young Englishman here, and a young English lord, of one of their princely families——'

'Yes!' said Eva, in a subdued but earnest tone.

'He brought me a letter from the best and greatest of men,' said Besso, with much emotion, 'to whom I, to whom we, owe everything: our fortunes, our presence here, perhaps our lives. There was nothing which I was not bound to do for him, which I was not ready and prepared to do. I ought to have guarded over him; to have forced my services on his acceptance; I blame myself now when it is too late. But he sent me his letter by the Intendant of his household, whom I knew. I was fearful to obtrude myself. I learnt he was fanatically Christian, and thought perhaps he might shrink from my acquaintance.'

'And what has happened?' inquired Eva, with an agitation which proved her sympathy with her father's sorrow.

'He left the city some days ago to visit Sinai; well armed and properly escorted. He has been waylaid in the wilderness and captured after a bloody struggle.'

'A bloody struggle?'

'Yes; they of course would gladly not have fought, but, though entrapped into an ambush, the young Englishman would not yield, but fought with desperation. His assailants have suffered considerably; his own party comparatively little, for they were so placed; surrounded, you understand, in a mountain defile, that they might have been all massacred, but the fear of destroying their prize restrained at first the marksmen on the heights; and, by a daring and violent charge, the young Englishman and his followers forced the pass, but they were overpowered by numbers.'

'And he wounded?'

'I hope not severely. But you have heard nothing. They have sent his Intendant to Jerusalem with a guard of Arabs to bring back his ransom. What do you think they want?'

Eva signified her inability to conjecture.

'Two millions of piastres!'

'Two millions of piastres! Did you say two? 'Tis a great sum; but we might negotiate. They would accept less, perhaps much less, than two millions of piastres.'

'If it were four millions of piastres, I must pay it,' said Besso. ''Tis not the sum alone that so crosses me. The father of this young noble is a great prince, and could doubtless pay, without serious injury to himself, two millions of piastres for the ransom of his son; but that's not it. He comes here; he is sent to me. I was to care for him, think for him, guard over him: I have never even seen him; and he is wounded, plundered, and a prisoner!'

'But if he avoided you, my father?' murmured Eva, with her eyes fixed upon the ground.

'Avoided me!' said Besso; 'he never thought of me but as of a Jew banker, to whom he would send his servant for money when he needed it. Was I to stand on punctilios with a great Christian noble? I ought to have waited at his gate every day when he came forth, and bowed to the earth, until it pleased him to notice me; I ought——'

'No, no, no, my father! you are bitter. This youth is not such as you think; at least, in all probability is not,' said Eva. 'You hear he is fanatically Christian; he may be but deeply religious, and his thoughts at this moment may rest on other things than the business of the world. He who makes pilgrimage to Sinai can scarcely think us so vile as you would intimate.'

'What will he think of those whom he is among? Here is the wound, Eva! Guess, then, child, who has shot this arrow. 'Tis my father!'

'O traitor! traitor!' said Eva, quickly covering her face with her hands. 'My terror was prophetic! There is none so base!'

'Nay, nay,' said Besso; 'these, indeed, are women's words. The great Sheikh in this has touched me nearly, but I see no baseness in it. He could not know the intimate relation that should subsist between me and this young Englishman. He has captured him in the desert, according to the custom of his tribe. Much as Amalek may injure me, I must acquit him of treason and of baseness.'

'Yes, yes,' said Eva, with an abstracted air. 'You misconceive me. I was thinking of others; and what do you purpose, my father?'

'First, to clear myself of the deep stain that I now feel upon my life,' said Besso. 'This Englishman comes to Jerusalem with an unbounded credit on my house: he visits the wilderness, and is made prisoner by my father-in-law, who is in ambush in a part of the desert which his tribe never frequents, and who sends to me for a princely ransom for his captive.

These are the apparent circumstances. These are the facts. There is but one inference from them. I dare say 'tis drawn already by all the gossips of the city: they are hard at it, I doubt not, at this moment, in my own divan, winking their eyes and shrugging their shoulders, while they are smoking my choice tobacco, and drinking my sherbet of pomegranate. And can I blame them?'

'A pure conscience may defy city gossips.'

'A pure conscience must pay the ransom out of my own coffers. I am not over fond of paying two millions of piastres, or even half, for one whose shadow never fell upon my threshold. And yet I must do it: do it for my father-in-law, the Sheikh of the Recha-bites, whose peace I made with Mehemet Ali, for whom I gained the guardianship of the Mecca caravan through the Syrian desert for five years, who has twelve thousand camels which he made by that office. Oh, were it not for you, my daughter, I would curse the hour that I ever mixed my blood with the children of Jethro. After all, if the truth were known, they are sons of Ishmael.'

'No, no, dear father, say not such things. You will send to the great Sheikh; he will listen——'

'I send to the great Sheikh! You know not your grandfather, and you know not me. The truth is, the Sheikh and myself mutually despise each other, and we have never met without parting in bitterness. No, no; I would rather pay the ransom myself than ask a favour of the great Sheikh. But how can I pay the ransom, even if I chose? This young Englishman is a fiery youth: he will not yield even to an ambush and countless odds. Do you think a man who charges through a defile crowned with matchlocks, and shoots men through the head, as I am told he did, in the name of Christ, will owe his freedom to my Jewish charity? He will burn the Temple first. This young man has the sword of Gideon. You know little of the world, Eva, and nothing of young Englishmen. There is not a race so proud, so wilful, so rash, and so obstinate. They live in a misty clime, on raw meats, and wines of fire. They laugh at their fathers, and never say a prayer. They pass their days in the chase, gaming, and all violent courses. They have all the power of the State, and all its wealth; and when they can wring no more from their peasants, they plunder the kings of India.' 'But this young Englishman, you say, is pious?' said Eva.

Ah! this young Englishman; why did he come here? What is Jerusalem to him, or he to Jerusalem? His Intendant, himself a prisoner, waits here. I must see him; he is one of the people of my patron, which proves our great friend's interest in this youth. O day thrice cursed! day of a thousand evil eyes! day of a new captivity——'

'My father, my dear father, these bursts of grief do not become your fame for wisdom. We must inquire, we must hold counsel. Let me see the Intendant of this English youth, and hear more than I have yet learnt. I cannot think that affairs are so hopeless as you paint them: I will believe that there is a spring near.'



CHAPTER XXXI.

Parleyings

IN AN almost circular valley, surrounded by mountains, Amalek, great Sheikh of the Rechabite Bedouins, after having crossed the peninsula of Petrasa from the great Syrian desert, pitched his camp amid the magnificent ruins of an ancient Idumaean city. The pavilion of the chief, facing the sunset, was raised in the arena of an amphitheatre cut out of the solid rock and almost the whole of the seats of which were entire. The sides of the mountains were covered with excavated tombs and temples, and, perhaps, dwelling-places; at any rate, many of them were now occupied by human beings. Fragments of columns were lying about, and masses of unknown walls. From a defile in the mountains issued a stream, which wound about in the plain, its waters almost hid, but its course beautifully indicated by the undulating shrubbery of oleanders, fig-trees, and willows. On one side of these, between the water and the amphitheatre, was a crescent of black tents, groups of horses, and crouching camels. Over the whole scene the sunset threw a violet hue, while the moon, broad and white, floated over the opposite hills.

The carpet of the great Sheikh was placed before his pavilion, and, seated on it alone, and smoking a chibouque of date wood, the patriarch ruminated. He had no appearance of age, except from a snowy beard, which was very long: a wiry man, with an unwrinkled face; dark, regular, and noble features, beautiful teeth. Over his head, a crimson kefia, ribbed and fringed with gold; his robe was of the same colour, and his boots were of red leather; the chief of one of the great tribes, and said, when they were united, to be able to bring ten thousand horsemen into the field.

One at full gallop, with a long spear, at this moment darted from the ravine, and, without stopping to answer several who addressed him, hurried across the plain, and did not halt until he reached the Sheikh.

'Salaam, Sheikh of Sheikhs, it is done; the brother of the Queen of the English is your slave.'

'Good!' said Sheikh Amalek, very gravely, and taking his pipe from his mouth. 'May your mother eat the hump of a young camel! When will they be here?'

'They will be the first shadows of the moon.' 'Good! is the brother of the Queen with Sheikh Salem?'

'There is only one God: Sheikh Salem will never drink leban again, unless he drink it in Paradise.'

'Certainly, there is only one God. What! has he fallen asleep into the well of Nummula?'

'No; but we have seen many evil eyes. Four hares crossed our path this morning. Our salaam to the English prince was not a salaam of peace. The brother of the Queen of the English is no less than an Antar. He will fight, yea or nay; and he has shot Sheikh Salem through the head.'

'There is but one God, and His will be done. I have lost the apple of mine eye. The Prince of the English is alive?'

'He is alive.'

'Good! camels shall be given to the widow of Sheikh Salem, and she shall be married to a new husband. Are there other deeds of Gin?'

'One grape will not make a bunch, even though it be a great one.'

'Let truth always be spoken. Let your words flow as the rock of Moses.'

'There is only one God: if you call to Ibrahim-ben-Hassan, to Molgrabi Teuba, and Teuba-ben-Amin, they will not be roused from their sleep: there are also wounds.'

'Tell all the people there is only one God: it is the Sheikh of the Jeilaheens that has done these deeds of Gin?'

'Let truth always be spoken; my words shall flow as the rock of Moses. The Sheikh of the Jeilaheens counselled the young man not to fight, but the young man is a very Zatanai. Certainly there are many devils, but there is no devil like a Frank in a round hat.'

The evening advanced; the white moon, that had only gleamed, now glittered; the necks of the camels looked tall and silvery in its beam. The night-fires began to blaze, the lamps to twinkle in the crescent of dark tents. There was a shout, a general stir, the heads of spears were seen glistening in the ravine. They came; a winding line of warriors. Some, as they emerged into the plain, galloped forward and threw their spears into the air; but the main body preserved an appearance of discipline, and proceeded at a slow pace to the pavilion of the Sheikh. A body of horsemen came first; then warriors on dromedaries; Sheikh Hassan next, grave and erect as if nothing had happened, though he was wounded, and followed by his men, disarmed, though their chief retained his spear. Baroni followed. He was unhurt, and rode between two Bedouins, with whom he continually conversed. After them, the bodies of Sheikh Salem and his comrades, covered with cloaks and stowed on camels. And then came the great prize, Tancred, mounted on a dromedary, his right arm bound up in a sling which Baroni had hastily made, and surrounded and followed by a large troop of horsemen, who treated him with the highest consideration, not only because he was a great prince, whose ransom could bring many camels to their tribe, but because he had shown those feats of valour which the wild desert honours.

Notwithstanding his wound, which, though slight, began to be painful, and the extreme vexation of the whole affair, Tancred could not be insensible to the strange beauty of the scene which welcomed him. He had read of these deserted cities, carved out of the rocks of the wilderness, and once the capitals of flourishing and abounding kingdoms.

They stopped before the pavilion of the great Sheikh; the arena of the amphitheatre became filled with camels, horses, groups of warriors; many mounted on the seats, that they might overlook the scene, their arms and shawled heads glistening in the silver blaze of the moon or the ruddy flames of the watch-fires. They assisted Tancred to descend, they ushered him with courtesy to their chief, who made room for Tancred on his own carpet, and motioned that he should be seated by his side. A small carpet was placed for Sheikh Hassan, and another for Baroni.

'Salaam, brother of many queens, all that you see is yours; Salaam Sheikh Hassan, we are brothers. Salaam,' added Amalek, looking at Baroni, 'they tell me that you can speak our language, which is beautiful as the moon and many palm trees; tell the prince, brother of many queens, that he mistook the message that I sent him this morning, which was an invitation to a feast, not to a war. Tell him we are brothers.'

'Tell the Sheikh,' said Tancred, 'that I have no appetite for feasting, and desire to be informed why he has made me a prisoner.'

'Tell the prince, brother of many queens, that he is not a prisoner, but a guest.'

'Ask the Sheikh, then, whether we can depart at once.'

'Tell the prince, brother of many queens, that it would be rude in me to let him depart to-night.'

'Ask the Sheikh whether I may depart in the morning.'

'Tell the prince that, when the morning comes, he will find I am his brother.' So saying, the great Sheikh took his pipe from his mouth and gave it to Tancred: the greatest of distinctions. In a few moments, pipes were also brought to Sheikh Hassan and Baroni.

'No harm can come to you, my lord, after smoking that pipe,' said Baroni. 'We must make the best of affairs. I have been in worse straits with M. de Sidonia. What think you of Malay pirates? These are all gentlemen.'

While Baroni was speaking, a young man slowly and with dignity passed through the bystanders, advanced, and, looking very earnestly at Tancred, seated himself on the same carpet as the grand Sheikh. This action alone would have betokened the quality of the newcomer, had not his kefia, similar to that of Sheikh Amalek, and his whole bearing, clearly denoted his princely character. He was very young; and Tancred, while he was struck by his earnest gaze, was attracted by his physiognomy, which, indeed, from its refined beauty and cast of impassioned intelligence, was highly interesting.

Preparations all this time had been making for the feast. Half a dozen sheep had been given to the returning band; everywhere resounded the grinding of coffee; men passed, carrying pitchers of leban and panniers of bread cakes hot from their simple oven. The great Sheikh, who had asked many questions after the oriental fashion: which was the most powerful nation, England or France; what was the name of a third European nation of which he had heard, white men with flat noses in green coats; whether the nation of white men with flat noses in green coats could have taken Acre as the English had, the taking of Acre being the test of military prowess; how many horses the Queen of the English had, and how many slaves; whether English pistols are good; whether the English drink wine; whether the English are Christian giaours or Pagan giaours? and so on, now invited Tancred, Sheikh Hassan, and two or three others, to enter his pavilion and partake of the banquet.

'The Sheikh must excuse me,' said Tancred to Baroni; 'I am wearied and wounded. Ask if I can retire and have a tent.'

'Are you wounded?' said the young Sheikh, who was sitting on the carpet of Amalek, and speaking, not only in a tone of touching sympathy, but in the language of Franguestan.

'Not severely,' said Tancred, less abruptly than he had yet spoken, for the manner and the appearance of the youth touched him, 'but this is my first fight, and perhaps I make too much of it. However, my arm is painful and stiff, and indeed, you may conceive after all this, I could wish for a little repose.'

'The great Sheikh has allotted you a compartment of his pavilion,' said the youth; 'but it will prove a noisy resting-place, I fear, for a wounded man. I have a tent here, an humbler one, but which is at least tranquil. Let me be your host!'

'You are most gracious, and I should be much inclined to be your guest, but I am a prisoner,' he said, haughtily, 'and cannot presume to follow my own will.'

'I will arrange all,' said the youth, and he conversed with Sheikh Amalek for some moments. Then they all rose, the young man advancing to Tancred, and saying in a sweet coaxing voice, 'You are under my care. I will not be a cruel gaoler; I could not be to you.' So saying, making their reverence to the great Sheikh, the two young men retired together from the arena. Baroni would have followed them, when the youth stopped him, saying, with decision, 'The great Sheikh expects your presence; you must on no account be absent. I will tend your chief: you will permit me?' he inquired in a tone of sympathy, and then, offering to support the arm of Tancred, he murmured, 'It kills me to think that you are wounded.'

Tancred was attracted to the young stranger: his prepossessing appearance, his soft manners, the contrast which they afforded to all around, and to the scenes and circumstances which Tancred had recently experienced, were winning. Tancred, therefore, gladly accompanied him to his pavilion, which was pitched outside the amphitheatre, and stood apart. Notwithstanding the modest description of his tent by the young Sheikh, it was by no means inconsiderable in size, for it possessed several compartments, and was of a different colour and fashion from those of the rest of the tribe. Several steeds were picketed in Arab fashion near its entrance, and a group of attendants, smoking and conversing with great animation, were sitting in a circle close at hand. They pressed their hands to their hearts as Tancred and his host passed them, but did not rise. Within the pavilion, Tancred found a luxurious medley of cushions and soft carpets, forming a delightful divan; pipes and arms, and, to his great surprise, several numbers of a French newspaper published at Smyrna.

'Ah!' exclaimed Tancred, throwing himself on the divan, 'after all I have gone through to-day, this is indeed a great and an unexpected relief.'

''Tis your own divan,' said the young Arab, clapping his hands; 'and when I have given some orders for your comfort, I shall only be your guest, though not a distant one.' He spoke some words in Arabic to an attendant who entered, and who returned very shortly with a silver lamp fed with palm oil, which he placed on the ground.

'I have two poor Englishmen here,' said Tancred, 'my servants; they must be in sad straits; unable to speak a word——'

'I will give orders that they shall attend you. In the meantime you must refresh yourself, however lightly, before you repose.' At this moment there entered the tent several attendants with a variety of dishes, which Tancred would have declined, but the young Sheikh, selecting one of them, said, 'This, at least, I must urge you to taste, for it is a favourite refreshment with us after great fatigue, and has some properties of great virtue.' So saying, he handed to Tancred a dish of bread, dates, and prepared cream, which Tancred, notwithstanding his previous want of relish, cheerfully admitted to be excellent. After this, as Tancred would partake of no other dish, pipes were brought to the two young men, who, reclining on the divan, smoked and conversed.

'Of all the strange things that have happened to me to-day,' said Tancred, 'not the least surprising, and certainly the most agreeable, has been making your acquaintance. Your courtesy has much compensated me for the rude treatment of your tribe; but, I confess, such refinement is what, under any circumstances, I should not have expected to find among the tents of the desert, any more than this French journal.'

'I am not an Arab,' said the young man, speaking slowly and with an air of some embarrassment.

'Ah!' exclaimed Tancred.

'I am a Christian prince.'

'Yes!'

'A prince of the Lebanon, devoted to the English, and one who has suffered much in their cause.'

'You are not a prisoner here, like myself?'

'No, I am here, seeking some assistance for those sufferers who should be my subjects, were I not deprived of my sceptre, and they of a prince whose family has reigned over and protected them for more than seven centuries. The powerful tribe of which Sheikh Amalek is the head often pitch their tents in the great Syrian desert, in the neighbourhood of Damascus, and there are affairs in which they can aid my unhappy people.'

'It is a great position, yours,' said Tancred, in an animated tone, 'at the same time a Syrian and a Christian prince!'

'Yes,' said the young Emir, eagerly, 'if the English would only understand their own interests, with my co-operation Syria might be theirs.'

'The English!' said Tancred, 'why should the English take Syria?'

'France will take it if they do not.'

'I hope not,' said Tancred.

'But something must be done,' said the Emir. 'The Porte never could govern it. Do you think anybody in Lebanon really cares for the Pasha of Damascus? If the Egyptians had not disarmed the mountain, the Turks would be driven out of Syria in a week.'

'A Syrian and a Christian prince!' said Tancred, musingly. 'There are elements in that position stronger than the Porte, stronger than England, stronger than united Europe. Syria was a great country when France and England were forests. The tricolour has crossed the Alps and the Rhine, and the flag of England has beaten even the tricolour; but if I were a Syrian prince, I would raise the cross of Christ and ask for the aid of no foreign banner.'

'If I could only raise a loan,' said the Emir, 'I could do without France and England.'

'A loan!' exclaimed Tancred; 'I see the poison of modern liberalism has penetrated even the desert. Believe me, national redemption is not an affair of usury.'

At this moment there was some little disturbance without the tent, which it seems was occasioned by the arrival of Tancred's servants, Freeman and True-man. These excellent young men persisted in addressing the Arabs in their native English, and, though we cannot for a moment believe that they fancied themselves understood, still, from a mixture of pride and perverseness peculiarly British, they continued their valuable discourse as if every word told, or, if not apprehended, was a striking proof of the sheer stupidity of their new companions. The noise became louder and louder, and at length Freeman and Trueman entered.

'Well,' said Tancred, 'and how have you been getting on?'

'Well, my lord, I don't know,' said Freeman, with a sort of jolly sneer; 'we have been dining with the savages.'

'They are not savages, Freeman.'

'Well, my lord, they have not much more clothes, anyhow; and as for knives and forks, there is not such a thing known.'

'As for that, there was not such a thing known as a fork in England little more than two hundred years ago, and we were not savages then; for the best part of Montacute Castle was built long before that time.'

'I wish we were there, my lord!'

'I dare say you do: however, we must make the best of present circumstances. I wanted to know, in the first place, whether you had food; as for lodging, Mr. Baroni, I dare say, will manage something for you; and if not, you had better quarter yourselves by the side of this tent. With your own cloaks and mine, you will manage very well.'

'Thank you, my lord. We have brought your lordship's things with us. I don't know what I shall do to-morrow about your lordship's boots. The savages have got hold of the bottle of blacking and have been drinking it like anything.'

'Never mind my boots,' said Tancred, 'we have got other things to think of now.'

'I told them what it was,' said Freeman, 'but they went on just the same.'

'Obstinate dogs!' said Tancred.

'I think they took it for wine, my lord,' said Trueman. 'I never see such ignorant creatures.'

'You find now the advantage of a good education, Trueman.'

'Yes, my lord, we do, and feel very grateful to your lordship's honoured mother for the same. When we came down out of the mountains and see those blazing fires, if I didn't think they were going to burn us alive, unless we changed our religion! I said the catechism as hard as I could the whole way, and felt as much like a blessed martyr as could be.'

'Well, well,' said Tancred, 'I dare say they will spare our lives. I cannot much assist you here; but if there be anything you particularly want, I will try and see what can be done.'

Freeman and Trueman looked at each other, and their speaking faces held common consultation. At length, the former, with some slight hesitation, said, 'We don't like to be troublesome, my lord, but if your lordship would ask for some sugar for us; we cannot drink their coffee without sugar.'



CHAPTER XXXII.

Suspense

'I WOULD not mention it to your lordship last night,' said Baroni; 'I thought enough had happened for one day.'

'But now you think I am sufficiently fresh for new troubles.' 'He spoke it in Hebrew, that myself and Sheikh Hassan should not understand him, but I know something of that dialect.'

'In Hebrew! And why in Hebrew?' 'They follow the laws of Moses, this tribe.' 'Do you mean that they are Jews?' 'The Arabs are only Jews upon horseback,' said Baroni. 'This tribe, I find, call themselves Rechabites.'

'Ah!' exclaimed Tancred, and he began to muse. 'I have heard of that name before. Is it possible,' thought he, 'that my visit to Bethany should have led to this captivity?'

'This affair must have been planned at Jerusalem,' said Baroni; 'I saw from the first it was not a common foray. These people know everything. They will send immediately to Besso; they know he is your banker, and that if you want to build the Temple, he must pay for it, and unless a most immoderate ransom is given, they will carry us all into the interior of the desert.'

'And what do you counsel?'

'In this, as in all things, to gain time; and principally because I am without resource, but with time expedients develop themselves. Naturally, what is wanted will come; expediency is a law of nature. The camel is a wonderful animal, but the desert made the camel. I have already impressed upon the great Sheikh that you are not a prince of the blood; that your father is ruined, that there has been a murrain for three years among his herds and flocks; and that, though you appear to be travelling for amusement, you are, in fact, a political exile. All these are grounds for a reduced ransom. At present he believes nothing that I say, because his mind has been previously impressed with contrary and more cogent representations, but what I say will begin to work when he has experienced some disappointment, and the period of re-action arrives. Re-action is the law of society; it is inevitable. All success depends upon seizing it.'

'It appears to me that you are a great philosopher, Baroni,' said Tancred.

'I travelled five years with M. de Sidonia,' said Baroni. 'We were in perpetual scrapes, often worse than this, and my master moralised upon every one of them. I shared his adventures, and I imbibed some of his wisdom; and the consequence is, that I always ought to know what to say, and generally what to do.'

'Well, here at least is some theatre for your practice; though, as far as I can form an opinion, our course is simple, though ignominious. We must redeem ourselves from captivity. If it were only the end of my crusade, one might submit to it, like Coeur de Lion, after due suffering; but occurring at the commencement, the catastrophe is mortifying, and I doubt whether I shall have heart enough to pursue my way. Were I alone, I certainly would not submit to ransom. I would look upon captivity as one of those trials that await me, and I would endeavour to extricate myself from it by courage and address, relying ever on Divine aid; but I am not alone. I have involved you in this mischance, and these poor Englishmen, and, it would seem, the brave Hassan and his tribe. I can hardly ask you to make the sacrifice which I would cheerfully endure; and therefore it seems to me that we have only one course—to march under the forks.'

'With submission,' said Baroni, 'I cannot agree with any of your lordship's propositions. You take an extreme view of our case. Extreme views are never just; something always turns up which disturbs the calculations formed upon their decided data. This something is circumstance. Circumstance has decided every crisis which I have experienced, and not the primitive facts on which we have consulted. Rest assured that circumstance will clear us now.'

'I see no room, in our situation, for the accidents on which you rely,' said Tancred. 'Circumstance, as you call it, is the creature of cities, where the action of a multitude, influenced by different motives, produces innumerable and ever-changing combinations; but we are in the desert. The great Sheikh will never change his mind any more than his habits of life, which are the same as his ancestors pursued thousands of years ago; and, for an identical reason, he is isolated and superior to all influences.'

'Something always turns up,' said Baroni.

'It seems to me that we are in a cul-de-sac,' said Tancred.

'There is always an outlet; one can escape from a cul-de-sac by a window.'

'Do you think it would be advisable to consult the master of this tent?' said Tancred, in a lower tone. 'He is very friendly.'

'The Emir Fakredeen,' said Baroni.

'Is that his name?'

'So I learnt last night. He is a prince of the house of Shehaab; a great house, but fallen.'

'He is a Christian,' said Tancred, earnestly.

'Is he?' said Baroni carelessly; 'I have known a good many Shehaabs, and if you will tell me their company, I will tell you their creed.'

'He might give us some advice.'

'No doubt of it, my lord; if advice could break our chains, we should soon be free; but in these countries my only confidant is my camel. Assuming that this affair is to end in a ransom, what we want now is to change the impressions of the great Sheikh respecting your wealth. This can only be done from the same spot where the original ideas emanated. I must induce him to permit me to accompany his messenger to Besso. This mission will take time, and he who gains time gains everything, as M. de Sidonia said to me when the savages were going to burn us alive, and there came on a thunder-storm which extinguished their fagots.'

'You must really tell me your history some day, Baroni,' said Tancred.

'When my mission has failed. It will perhaps relieve your imprisonment; at present, I repeat, we must work for a moderate ransom, instead of the millions of which they talk, and during the negotiation take the chance of some incident which will more agreeably free us.'

'Ah! I despair of that.'

'I do not, for it is presumptuous to believe that man can foresee the future, which will be your lordship's case, if you owe your freedom only to your piastres.'

'But they say that everything is calculation, Baroni.'

'No,' said Baroni, with energy, 'everything is adventure.'

In the meantime the Emir Fakredeen was the prey of contending emotions. Tancred had from the first, and in an instant, exercised over his susceptible temperament that magnetic influence to which he was so strangely subject. In the heart of the wilderness and in the person of his victim, the young Emir suddenly recognised the heroic character which he had himself so vaguely and, as it now seemed to him, so vainly attempted to realise. The appearance and the courage of Tancred, the thoughtful repose of his manner, his high bearing amid the distressful circumstances in which he was involved, and the large views which the few words that had escaped from him on the preceding evening would intimate that he took of public transactions, completely captivated Fakredeen, who seemed at length to have found the friend for whom he had often sighed; the steadfast and commanding spirit, whose control, he felt conscious, was often required by his quick but whimsical temperament. And in what relation did he stand to this being whom he longed to press to his heart, and then go forth with him and conquer the world? It would not bear contemplation. The arming of the Maronites became quite a secondary object in comparison with obtaining the friendship of Tancred. Would that he had not involved himself in this conspiracy! and yet, but for this conspiracy, Tancred and himself might never have met. It was impossible to grapple with the question; circumstances must be watched, and some new combination formed to extricate both of them from their present perplexed position.

Fakredeen sent one of his attendants in the morning to offer Tancred horses, should his guest, as is the custom of Englishmen, care to explore the neighbouring ruins which were celebrated; but Tancred's wound kept him confined to his tent. Then the Emir begged permission to pay him a visit, which was to have lasted only a quarter of an hour; but when Fakredeen had once established himself in the divan with his nargileh, he never quitted it. It would have been difficult for Tancred to have found a more interesting companion; impossible to have made an acquaintance more singularly unreserved. His frankness was startling. Tancred had no experience of such self-revelations; such a jumble of sublime aspirations and equivocal conduct; such a total disregard of means, such complicated plots, such a fertility of perplexed and tenebrous intrigue! The animated manner and the picturesque phrase, too, in which all this was communicated, heightened the interest and effect. Fakredeen sketched a character in a sentence, and you knew instantly the individual whom he described without any personal knowledge. Unlike the Orientals in general, his gestures were as vivid as his words. He acted the interviews, he achieved the adventures before you. His voice could take every tone and his countenance every form. In the midst of all this, bursts of plaintive melancholy; sometimes the anguish of a sensibility too exquisite, alternating with a devilish mockery and a fatal absence of all self-respect.

'It appears to me,' said Tancred, when the young Emir had declared his star accursed, since, after the ceaseless exertions of years, he was still as distant as ever from the accomplishment of his purpose, 'it appears to me that your system is essentially erroneous. I do not believe that anything great is ever effected by management. All this intrigue, in which you seem such an adept, might be of some service in a court or in an exclusive senate; but to free a nation you require something more vigorous and more simple. This system of intrigue in Europe is quite old-fashioned. It is one of the superstitions left us by the wretched eighteenth century, a period when aristocracy was rampant throughout Christendom; and what were the consequences? All faith in God or man, all grandeur of purpose, all nobility of thought, and all beauty of sentiment, withered and shrivelled up. Then the dexterous management of a few individuals, base or dull, was the only means of success. But we live in a different age: there are popular sympathies, however imperfect, to appeal to; we must recur to the high primeval practice, and address nations now as the heroes, and prophets, and legislators of antiquity. If you wish to free your country, and make the Syrians a nation, it is not to be done by sending secret envoys to Paris or London, cities themselves which are perhaps both doomed to fall; you must act like Moses and Mahomet.'

'But you forget the religions,' said Fakredeen. 'I have so many religions to deal with. If my fellows were all Christians, or all Moslemin, or all Jews, or all Pagans, I grant you, something might be effected: the cross, the crescent, the ark, or an old stone, anything would do: I would plant it on the highest range in the centre of the country, and I would carry Damascus and Aleppo both in one campaign; but I am debarred from this immense support; I could only preach nationality, and, as they all hate each other worse almost than they do the Turks, that would not be very inviting; nationality, without race as a plea, is like the smoke of this nargileh, a fragrant puff. Well, then, there remains only personal influence: ancient family, vast possessions, and traditionary power: mere personal influence can only be maintained by management, by what you stigmatise as intrigue; and the most dexterous member of the Shehaab family will be, in the long run, Prince of Lebanon.'

'And if you wish only to be Prince of Lebanon, I dare say you may succeed,' said Tancred, 'and perhaps with much less pains than you at present give yourself. But what becomes of all your great plans of an hour ago, when you were to conquer the East, and establish the independence of the Oriental races?'

'Ah!' exclaimed Fakredeen with a sigh, 'these are the only ideas for which it is worth while to live.'

'The world was never conquered by intrigue: it was conquered by faith. Now, I do not see that you have faith in anything.'

'Faith,' said Fakredeen, musingly, as if his ear had caught the word for the first time, 'faith! that is a grand idea. If one could only have faith in something and conquer the world!'

'See now,' said Tancred, with unusual animation, 'I find no charm in conquering the world to establish a dynasty: a dynasty, like everything else, wears out; indeed, it does not last as long as most things; it has a precipitate tendency to decay. There are reasons; we will not now dwell on them. One should conquer the world not to enthrone a man, but an idea, for ideas exist for ever. But what idea? There is the touchstone of all philosophy! Amid the wreck of creeds, the crash of empires, French revolutions, English reforms, Catholicism in agony, and Protestantism in convulsions, discordant Europe demands the keynote, which none can sound. If Asia be in decay, Europe is in confusion. Your repose may be death, but our life is anarchy.'

'I am thinking,' said Fakredeen, thoughtfully, 'how we in Syria could possibly manage to have faith in anything; I had faith in Mehemet Ali, but he is a Turk, and that upset him. If, instead of being merely a rebellious Pasha, he had placed himself at the head of the Arabs, and revived the Caliphate, you would have seen something. Head the desert and you may do anything. But it is so difficult. If you can once get the tribes out of it, they will go anywhere. See what they did when they last came forth. It is a simoom, a kamsin, fatal, irresistible. They are as fresh, too, as ever. The Arabs are always young; it is the only race that never withers. I am an Arab myself; from my ancestor who was the standard-bearer of the Prophet, the consciousness of race is the only circumstance that sometimes keeps up my spirit.'

'I am an Arab only in religion,' said Tancred, 'but the consciousness of creed sustains me. I know well, though born in a distant and northern isle, that the Creator of the world speaks with man only in this land; and that is why I am here.'

The young Emir threw an earnest glance at his companion, whose countenance, though grave, was calm. 'Then you have faith?' said Fakredeen, inquiringly.

'I have passive faith,' said Tancred. 'I know that there is a Deity who has revealed his will at intervals during different ages; but of his present purpose I feel ignorant, and therefore I have not active faith; I know not what to do, and should be reduced to a mere spiritual slothfulness, had I not resolved to struggle with this fearful necessity, and so embarked in this great pilgrimage which has so strangely brought us together.'

'But you have your sacred books to consult?' said Fakredeen.

'There were sacred books when Jehovah conferred with Solomon; there was a still greater number of sacred books when Jehovah inspired the prophets; the sacred writings were yet more voluminous when the Creator ordained that there should be for human edification a completely new series of inspired literature. Nearly two thousand years have passed since the last of those works appeared. It is a greater interval than elapsed between the writings of Malachi and the writings of Matthew.'

'The prior of the Maronite convent, at Mar Hanna, has often urged on me, as conclusive evidence of the falseness of Mahomet's mission, that our Lord Jesus declared that after him "many false prophets should arise," and warned his followers.'

'There spoke the Prince of Israel,' said Tancred, 'not the universal Redeemer. He warned his tribe against the advent of false Messiahs, no more. Far from terminating by his coming the direct communication between God and man, his appearance was only the herald of a relation between the Creator and his creatures more fine, more permanent, and more express. The inspiring and consoling influence of the Paraclete only commenced with the ascension of the Divine Son. In this fact, perhaps, may be found a sufficient reason why no written expression of the celestial will has subsequently appeared. But, instead of foreclosing my desire for express communication, it would, on the contrary, be a circumstance to authorise it.'

'Then how do you know that Mahomet was not inspired?' said Fakredeen.

'Far be it from me to impugn the divine commission of any of the seed of Abraham,' replied Tancred. 'There are doctors of our church who recognise the sacred office of Mahomet, though they hold it to be, what divine commissions, with the great exception, have ever been, limited and local.'

'God has never spoken to a European?' said Fakredeen, inquiringly.

'Never.'

'But you are a European?'

'And your inference is just,' said Tancred, in an agitated voice, and with a changing countenance. 'It is one that has for some time haunted my soul. In England, when I prayed in vain for enlightenment, I at last induced myself to believe that the Supreme Being would not deign to reveal His will unless in the land which his presence had rendered holy; but since I have been a dweller within its borders, and poured forth my passionate prayers at all its holy places, and received no sign, the desolating thought has sometimes come over my spirit, that there is a qualification of blood as well as of locality necessary for this communion, and that the favoured votary must not only kneel in the Holy Land but be of the holy race.'

'I am an Arab,' said Fakredeen. 'It is something.'

'If I were an Arab in race as well as in religion,' said Tancred, 'I would not pass my life in schemes to govern some mountain tribes.'

'I'll tell you,' said the Emir, springing from his divan, and flinging the tube of his nargileh to the other end of the tent: 'the game is in our hands, if we have energy. There is a combination which would entirely change the whole 'face of the world, and bring back empire to the East. Though you are not the brother of the Queen of the English, you are nevertheless a great English prince, and the Queen will listen to what you say; especially if you talk to her as you talk to me, and say such fine things in such a beautiful voice. Nobody ever opened my mind like you. You will magnetise the Queen as you have magnetised me. Go back to England and arrange this. You see, gloze it over as they may, one thing is clear, it is finished with England. There are three things which alone must destroy it. Primo, O'Connell appropriating to himself the revenues of half of Her Majesty's dominions. Secondo, the cottons; the world begins to get a little disgusted with those cottons; naturally everybody prefers silk; I am sure that the Lebanon in time could supply the whole world with silk, if it were properly administered. Thirdly, steam; with this steam your great ships have become a respectable Noah's ark. The game is up; Louis Philippe can take Windsor Castle whenever he pleases, as you took Acre, with the wind in his teeth. It is all over, then. Now, see a coup d'etat that saves all. You must perform the Portuguese scheme on a great scale; quit a petty and exhausted position for a vast and prolific empire. Let the Queen of the English collect a great fleet, let her stow away all her treasure, bullion, gold plate, and precious arms; be accompanied by all her court and chief people, and transfer the seat of her empire from London to Delhi. There she will find an immense empire ready made, a firstrate army, and a large revenue. In the meantime I will arrange with Mehemet Ali.

He shall have Bagdad and Mesopotamia, and pour the Bedouin cavalry into Persia. I will take care of Syria and Asia Minor. The only way to manage the Afghans is by Persia and by the Arabs. We will acknowledge the Empress of India as our suzerain, and secure for her the Levantine coast. If she like, she shall have Alexandria as she now has Malta: it could be arranged. Your Queen is young; she has an avenir. Aberdeen and Sir Peel will never give her this advice; their habits are formed. They are too old, too ruses. But, you see! the greatest empire that ever existed; besides which she gets rid of the embarrassment of her Chambers! And quite practicable; for the only difficult part, the conquest of India, which baffled Alexander, is all done!'



CHAPTER XXXIII.

A Pilgrim to Mount Sinai

IT WAS not so much a conviction as a suspicion that Tancred had conveyed to the young Emir, when the pilgrim had confessed that the depressing thought sometimes came over him, that he was deficient in that qualification of race which was necessary for the high communion to which he aspired. Four-and-twenty hours before he was not thus dejected. Almost within sight of Sinai, he was still full of faith. But his vexatious captivity, and the enfeebling consequences of this wound, dulled his spirit. Alone, among strangers and foes, in pain and in peril, and without that energy which finds excitement in difficulty, and can mock at danger, which requires no counsellor but our own quick brain, and no champion but our own right arm, the high spirit of Tancred for the first time flagged. As the twilight descended over the rocky city, its sculptured tombs and excavated temples, and its strewn remains of palaces and theatres, his heart recurred with tenderness to the halls and towers of Montacute and Bellamont, and the beautiful affections beneath those stately roofs, that, urged on, as he had once thought, by a divine influence, now, as he was half tempted to credit, by a fantastic impulse, he had dared to desert. Brooding in dejection, his eyes were suffused with tears.

It was one of those moments of amiable weakness which make us all akin, when sublime ambition, the mystical predispositions of genius, the solemn sense of duty, all the heaped-up lore of ages, and the dogmas of a high philosophy alike desert us, or sink into nothingness. The voice of his mother sounded in his ear, and he was haunted by his father's anxious glance. Why was he there? Why was he, the child of a northern isle, in the heart of the Stony Arabia, far from the scene of his birth and of his duties? A disheartening, an awful question, which, if it could not be satisfactorily answered by Tancred of Montacute, it seemed to him that his future, wherever or however passed, must be one of intolerable bale.

Was he, then, a stranger there? uncalled, unexpected, intrusive, unwelcome? Was it a morbid curiosity, or the proverbial restlessness of a satiated aristocrat, that had drawn him to these wilds? What wilds? Had he no connection with them? Had he not from his infancy repeated, in the congregation of his people, the laws which, from the awful summit of these surrounding mountains, the Father of all had Himself delivered for the government of mankind? These Arabian laws regulated his life. And the wanderings of an Arabian tribe in this 'great and terrible wilderness,' under the immediate direction of the Creator, sanctified by His miracles, governed by His counsels, illumined by His presence, had been the first and guiding history that had been entrusted to his young intelligence, from which it had drawn its first pregnant examples of human conduct and divine interposition, and formed its first dim conceptions of the relations between man and God. Why, then, he had a right to be here! He had a connection with these regions; they had a hold upon him. He was not here like an Indian Brahmin, who visits Europe from a principle of curiosity, however rational or however refined. The land which the Hindoo visits is not his land, nor his father's land; the laws which regulate it are not his laws, and the faith which fills its temples is not the revelation that floats upon his sacred Ganges. But for this English youth, words had been uttered and things done, more than thirty centuries ago, in this stony wilderness, which influenced his opinions and regulated his conduct every day of his life, in that distant and seagirt home, which, at the time of their occurrence, was not as advanced in civilisation as the Polynesian groups or the islands of New Zealand. The life and property of England are protected by the laws of Sinai. The hard-working people of England are secured in every seven days a day of rest by the laws of Sinai. And yet they persecute the Jews, and hold up to odium the race to whom they are indebted for the sublime legislation which alleviates the inevitable lot of the labouring multitude!

And when that labouring multitude cease for a while from a toil which equals almost Egyptian bondage, and demands that exponent of the mysteries of the heart, that soother of the troubled spirit, which poetry can alone afford, to whose harp do the people of England fly for sympathy and solace? Who is the most popular poet in this country? Is he to be found among the Mr. Wordsworths and the Lord Byrons, amid sauntering reveries or monologues of sublime satiety? Shall we seek him among the wits of Queen Anne? Even to the myriad-minded Shakespeare can we award the palm? No; the most popular poet in England is the sweet singer of Israel. Since the days of the heritage, when every man dwelt safely under his vine and under his fig tree, there never was a race who sang so often the odes of David as the people of Great Britain.

Vast as the obligations of the whole human family are to the Hebrew race, there is no portion of the modern population so much indebted to them as the British people. It was 'the sword of the Lord and of Gideon' that won the boasted liberties of England; chanting the same canticles that cheered the heart of Judah amid their glens, the Scotch, upon their hillsides, achieved their religious freedom.

Then why do these Saxon and Celtic societies persecute an Arabian race, from whom they have adopted laws of sublime benevolence, and in the pages of whose literature they have found perpetual delight, instruction, and consolation? That is a great question, which, in an enlightened age, may be fairly asked, but to which even the self-complacent nineteenth century would find some difficulty in contributing a reply. Does it stand thus? Independently of their admirable laws which have elevated our condition, and of their exquisite poetry which has charmed it; independently of their heroic history which has animated us to the pursuit of public liberty, we are indebted to the Hebrew people for our knowledge of the true God and for the redemption from our sins.

'Then I have a right to be here,' said Tancred of Montacute, as his eyes were fixed in abstraction on the stars of Arabia; 'I am not a travelling dilettante, mourning over a ruin, or in ecstasies at a deciphered inscription. I come to the land whose laws I obey, whose religion I profess, and I seek, upon its sacred soil, those sanctions which for ages were abundantly accorded. The angels who visited the Patriarchs, and announced the advent of the Judges, who guided the pens of Prophets and bore tidings to the Apostles, spoke also to the Shepherds in the field. I look upon the host of heaven; do they no longer stand before the Lord? Where are the Cherubim, where the Seraphs? Where is Michael the Destroyer? Gabriel of a thousand missions?'

At this moment, the sound of horsemen recalled Tancred from his reverie, and, looking up, he observed a group of Arabs approaching him, three of whom were mounted. Soon he recognised the great Sheikh Amalek, and Hassan, the late commander of his escort. The young Syrian Emir was their companion. This was a visit of hospitable ceremony from the great Sheikh to his distinguished prisoner. Amalek, pressing his hand to his heart, gave Tancred the salute of peace, and then, followed by Hassan, who had lost nothing of his calm self-respect, but who conducted himself as if he were still free, the great Sheikh seated himself on the carpet that was spread before the tent, and took the pipe, which was immediately offered him by Freeman and Trueman, following the instructions of an attendant of the Emir Fakredeen.

After the usual compliments and some customary observations about horses and pistols, Fakredeen, who had seated himself close to Tancred, with a kind of shrinking cajolery, as if he were seeking the protection of some superior being, addressing Amalek in a tone of easy assurance, which remarkably contrasted with the sentimental deference he displayed towards his prisoner, said:

'Sheikh of Sheikhs, there is but one God: now is it Allah, or Jehovah?'

'The palm tree is sometimes called a date tree, replied Amalek, 'but there is only one tree.'

'Good,' said Fakredeen, 'but you do not pray to Allah?'

'I pray as my fathers prayed,' said Amalek.

'And you pray to Jehovah?'

'It is said.'

'Sheikh Hassan,' said the Emir, 'there is but one God, and his name is Jehovah. Why do you not pray to Jehovah?'

'Truly there is but one God,' said Sheikh Hassan, 'and Mahomet is his Prophet. He told my fathers to pray to Allah, and to Allah I pray.'

'Is Mahomet the prophet of God, Sheikh of Sheikhs?'

'It may be,' replied Amalek, with a nod of assent.

'Then why do you not pray as Sheikh Hassan?'

'Because Moses, without doubt the prophet of God,—for all believe in him, Sheikh Hassan, and Emir Fakredeen, and you too, Prince, brother of queens,—married into our family and taught us to pray to Jehovah. There may be other prophets, but the children of Jethro would indeed ride on asses were they not content with Moses.'

'And you have his five books?' inquired Tancred.

'We had them from the beginning, and we shall keep them to the end.'

'And you learnt in them that Moses married the daughter of Jethro?'

'Did I learn in them that I have wells and camels? We want no books to tell us who married our daughters.'

'And yet it is not yesterday that Moses fled from Egypt into Midian?'

'It is not yesterday for those who live in cities, where they say at one gate that it is morning, and at another it is night. Where men tell lies, the deed of the dawn is the secret of sunset. But in the desert nothing changes; neither the acts of a man's life, nor the words of a man's lips. We drink at the same well where Moses helped Zipporah, we tend the same flocks, we live under the same tents; our words have changed as little as our waters, our habits, or our dwellings. What my father learnt from those before him, he delivered to me, and I have told it to my son. What is time and what is truth, that I should forget that a prophet of Jehovah married into my house?'

'Where little is done, little is said,' observed Sheikh Hassan, 'and silence is the mother of truth.

Since the Hegira, nothing has happened in Arabia, and before that was Moses, and before him the giants.'

'Let truth always be spoken,' said Amalek; 'your words are a flowing stream, and the children of Rechab and the tribes of the Senites never joined him of Mecca, for they had the five books, and they said, "Is not that enough?" They withdrew to the Syrian wilderness, and they multiplied. But the sons of Koreidha, who also had the five books, but who were not children of Rechab, but who came into the desert near Medina after Nebuchadnezzar had destroyed El Khuds, they first joined him of Mecca, and then they made war on him, and he broke their bows and led them into captivity; and they are to be found in the cities of Yemen to this day; the children of Israel who live in the cities of Yemen are the tribe of Koreidha.'

'Unhappy sons of Koreidha, who made war upon the Prophet, and who live in cities!' said Sheikh Hassan, taking a fresh pipe.

'And perhaps,' said the young Emir, 'if you had not been children of Jethro, you might have acknowledged him of Mecca, Sheikh of Sheikhs.'

'There is but one God,' said Amalek; 'but there may be many prophets. It becomes not a son of jethro to seek other than Moses. But I will not say that the Koran comes not from God, since it was written by one who was of the tribe of Koreish, and the tribe of Koreish are the lineal descendants of Ibrahim.'

'And you believe that the Word of God could come only to the seed of Abraham?' asked Tancred, eagerly.

'I and my fathers have watered our flocks in the wilderness since time was,' replied Amalek; 'we have seen the Pharaohs, and Nebuchadnezzar, and Iskander, and the Romans, and the Sultan of the French: they conquered everything except us; and where are they? They are sand. Let men doubt of unicorns: but of one thing there can be no doubt, that God never spoke except to an Arab.'

Tancred covered his face with his hands. Then, after a few moments' pause, looking up, he said, 'Sheikh of Sheikhs, I am your prisoner; and was, when you captured me, a pilgrim to Mount Sinai, a spot which, in your belief, is not less sacred than in mine. We are, as I have learned, only two days' journey from that holy place. Grant me this boon, that I may at once proceed thither, guarded as you will. I pledge you the word of a Christian noble, that I will not attempt to escape. Long before you have received a reply from Jerusalem, I shall have returned; and whatever may be the result of the visit of Baroni, I shall, at least, have fulfilled my pilgrimage.'

'Prince, brother of queens,' replied Amalek, with that politeness which is the characteristic of the Arabian chieftains; 'under my tents you have only to command; go where you like, return when you please. My children shall attend you as your guardians, not as your guards.' And the great Sheikh rose and retired.

Tancred re-entered his tent, and, reclining, fell into a reverie of distracting thoughts. The history of his life and mind seemed with a whirling power to pass before him; his birth, in clime unknown to the Patriarchs; his education, unconsciously to himself, in an Arabian literature; his imbibing, from his tender infancy, oriental ideas and oriental creeds; the contrast that the occidental society in which he had been reared presented to them; his dissatisfaction with that social system; his conviction of the growing melancholy of enlightened Europe, veiled, as it may be, with sometimes a conceited bustle, sometimes a desperate shipwreck gaiety, sometimes with all the exciting empiricism of science; his perplexity that, between the Asian revelation and the European practice there should be so little conformity, and why the relations between them should be so limited and imperfect; above all, his passionate desire to penetrate the mystery of the elder world, and share its celestial privileges and divine prerogative. Tancred sighed.

He looked round; some one had gently drawn his hand. It was the young Emir kneeling, his beautiful blue eyes bedewed with tears.

'You are unhappy, said Fakredeen, in a tone of plaintiveness.

'It is the doom of man,' replied Tancred; 'and in my position sadness should not seem strange.'

'The curse of ten thousand mothers on those who made you a prisoner; the curse of twenty thousand mothers on him who inflicted on you a wound!'

''Tis the fortune of life,' said Tancred, more cheerfully; 'and in truth I was perhaps thinking of other things.'

'Do you know why I trouble you when your heart is dark?' said the young Emir. 'See now, if you will it, you are free. The great Sheikh has consented that you should go to Sinai. I have two dromedaries here, fleeter than the Kamsin. At the well of Mokatteb, where we encamp for the night, I will serve raki to the Bedouins; I have some with me, strong enough to melt the snow of Lebanon; if it will not do, they shall smoke some timbak, that will make them sleep like pashas. I know this desert as a man knows his father's house; we shall be at Hebron before they untie their eyelids. Tell me, is it good?'

'Were I alone,' said Tancred, 'without a single guard, I must return.'

'Why?'

'Because I have pledged the word of a Christian noble.'

'To a man who does not believe in Christ. Faugh! Is it not itself a sin to keep faith with heretics?'

'But is he one?' said Tancred. 'He believes in Moses; he disbelieves in none of the seed of Abraham. He is of that seed himself! Would I were such a heretic as Sheikh Amalek!'

'If you will only pay me a visit in the Lebanon, I would introduce you to our patriarch, and he would talk as much theology with you as you like. For my own part it is not a kind of knowledge that I have much cultivated; you know I am peculiarly situated, we have so many religions on the mountain; but time presses; tell me, my prince, shall Hebron be our point?'

'If Amalek believed in Baal, I must return,' said Tancred; 'even if it were to certain death. Besides, I could not desert my men; and Baroni, what would become of him?'

'We could easily make some plan that would extricate them. Dismiss them from your mind, and trust yourself to me. I know nothing that would delight me more than to baulk these robbers of their prey.'

'I should not talk of such things,' said Tancred; 'I must remain here, or I must return.'

'What can you want to do on Mount Sinai?' murmured the prince rather pettishly. 'Now if it were Mount Lebanon, and you had a wish to employ yourself, there is an immense field! We might improve the condition of the people; we might establish manufactures, stimulate agriculture extend commerce get an appalto of the silk, buy it all up at sixty piastres per oke, and sell it at Marseilles at two hundred and at the same time advance the interests of true religion as much as you please.'



CHAPTER XXXIV.

In the Valley of the Shadow

THEN days had elapsed since the capture of Tancred; Amalek and his Arabs were still encamped in the rocky city; the beams of the early sun were just rising over the crest of the amphitheatre, when four horsemen, who were recognised as the children of Rechab, issued from the ravine. They galloped over the plain, shouted, and threw their lances in the air. From the crescent of black tents came forth the warriors, some mounted their horses and met their returning brethren, others prepared their welcome. The horses neighed, the camels stirred their long necks. All living things seemed conscious that an event had occurred.

The four horsemen were surrounded by their brethren; but one of them, giving and returning blessings, darted forward to the pavilion of the great Sheikh.

'Have you brought camels, Shedad, son of Amroo?' inquired one of the welcomers to the welcomed.

'We have been to El Khuds,' was the reply. 'What we have brought back is a seal of Solomon.

'From Mount Seir to the City of the Friend, what have you seen in the joyful land?'

'We found the sons of Hamar by the well-side of Jumda; we found the marks of many camels in the pass of Gharendel, and the marks in the pass of Gharendel were not the marks of the camels of the Beni-Hamar.'

'I had a dream, and the children of Tora said to me, "Who art thou in the hands of our father's flocks? Are none but the sons of Rechab to drink the sweet waters of Edom?" Methinks the marks in the pass of Gharendel were the marks of the camels of the children of Tora.'

'There is a feud between the Beni-Tora and the Beni-Hamar,' replied the other Arab, shaking his head. 'The Beni-Tora are in the wilderness of Akiba, and the Beni-Hamar have burnt their tents and captured their camels and their women. This is why the sons of Hamar are watering their flocks by the well of Jumda.'

In the meantime, the caravan, of which the four horsemen were the advanced guard, issued from the pass into the plain.

'Shedad, son of Amroo,' exclaimed one of the Bedouins, 'what! have you captured an harem?' For he beheld dromedaries and veiled women.

The great Sheikh came forth from his pavilion and sniffed the morning air; a dignified smile played over his benignant features, and once he smoothed his venerable beard.

'My son-in-law is a true son of Israel,' he murmured complacently to himself. 'He will trust his gold only to his own blood.'

The caravan wound about the plain, then crossed the stream at the accustomed ford, and approached the amphitheatre.

The horsemen halted, some dismounted, the dromedaries knelt down, Baroni assisted one of the riders from her seat; the great Sheikh advanced and said, 'Welcome in the name of God! welcome with a thousand blessings!'

'I come in the name of God; I come with a thousand blessings,' replied the lady.

'And with a thousand something else,' thought Amalek to himself; but the Arabs are so polished that they never make unnecessary allusions to business.

'Had I thought the Queen of Sheba was going to pay me a visit,' said the great Sheikh, 'I would have brought the pavilion of Miriam. How is the Rose of Sharon?' he continued, as he ushered Eva into his tent. 'How is the son of my heart; how is Besso, more generous than a thousand kings?'

'Speak not of the son of thy heart,' said Eva, seating herself on the divan. 'Speak not of Besso, the generous and the good, for his head is strewn with ashes, and his mouth is full of sand.'

'What is this?' thought Amalek. 'Besso is not ill, or his daughter would not be here. This arrow flies not straight. Does he want to scrape my piastres? These sons of Israel that dwell in cities will mix their pens with our spears. I will be obstinate as an Azafeer camel.'

Slaves now entered, bringing coffee and bread, the Sheikh asking questions as they ate, as to the time Eva quitted Jerusalem, her halting-places in the desert, whether she had met with any tribes; then he offered to his granddaughter his own chibouque, which she took with ceremony, and instantly returned, while they brought her aromatic nargileh.

Eva scanned the imperturbable countenance of her grandfather: calm, polite, benignant, she knew the great Sheikh too well to suppose for a moment that its superficial expression was any indication of his innermost purpose. Suddenly she said, in a somewhat careless tone, 'And why is the Lord of the Syrian pastures in this wilderness, that has been so long accursed?'

The great Sheikh took his pipe from his mouth, and then slowly sent forth its smoke through his nostrils, a feat of which he was proud. Then he placidly replied: 'For the same reason that the man named Baroni made a visit to El Khuds.'

'The man named Baroni came to demand succour for his lord, who is your prisoner.'

'And also to obtain two millions of piastres,' added Amalek.

'Two millions of piastres! Why not at once ask for the throne of Solomon?'

'Which would be given, if required,' rejoined Amalek. 'Was it not said in the divan of Besso, that if this Prince of Franguestan wished to rebuild the Temple, the treasure would not be wanting?'

'Said by some city gossip,' said Eva, scornfully.

'Said by your father, daughter of Besso, who, though he lives in cities, is not a man who will say that almonds are pearls.'

Eva controlled her countenance, though it was difficult to conceal her mortification as she perceived how well informed her grandfather was of all that passed under their roof, and of the resources of his prisoner. It was necessary, after the last remark of the great Sheikh, to take new ground, and, instead of dwelling, as she was about to do, on the exaggeration of public report, and attempting to ridicule the vast expectations of her host, she said, in a soft tone, 'You did not ask me why Besso was in such affliction, father of my mother?'

'There are many sorrows: has he lost ships? If a man is in sound health, all the rest are dreams. And Besso needs no hakeem, or you would not be here, my Rose of Sharon.'

'The light may have become darkness in our eyes, though we may still eat and drink,' said Eva. 'And that has happened to Besso which might have turned a child's hair grey in its cradle.'

'Who has poisoned his well? Has he quarrelled with the Porte?' said the Sheikh, without looking at her.

'It is not his enemies who have pierced him in the back.'

'Humph,' said the great Sheikh.

'And that makes his heart more heavy,' said Eva.

'He dwells too much in walls,' said the great Sheikh. 'He should have ridden into the desert, instead of you, my child. He should have brought the ransom himself; 'and the great Sheikh sent two curling streams out of his nostrils.

'Whoever be the bearer, he is the payer,' said Eva. 'It is he who is the prisoner, not this son of Franguestan, who, you think, is your captive.'

'Your father wishes to scrape my piastres,' said the great Sheikh, in a stern voice, and looking his granddaughter full in the face.

'If he wanted to scrape piastres from the desert,' said Eva, in a sweet but mournful voice, 'would Besso have given you the convoy of the Hadj without condition or abatement?'

The great Sheikh drew a long breath from his chibouque. After a momentary pause, he said, 'In a family there should ever be unity and concord; above all things, words should not be dark. How much will the Queen of the English give for her brother?

'He is not the brother of the Queen of the English,' said Eva.

'Not when he is my spoil, in my tent,' said Amalek, with a cunning smile; 'but put him on a round hat in a walled city, and then he is the brother of the Queen of the English.'

'Whatever his rank, he is the charge of Besso, my father and your son,' said Eva; 'and Besso has pledged his heart, his life, and his honour, that this young prince shall not be hurt. For him he feels, for him he speaks, for him he thinks. Is it to be told in the bazaars of Franguestan that his first office of devotion was to send this youth into the desert to be spoiled by the father of his wife?'

'Why did my daughters marry men who live in cities?' exclaimed the old Sheikh.

'Why did they marry men who made your peace with the Egyptian, when not even the desert could screen you? Why did they marry men who gained you the convoy of the Hadj, and gave you the milk of ten thousand camels?'

'Truly, there is but one God in the desert and in the city,' said Amalek. 'Now, tell me, Rose of Sharon, how many piastres have you brought me?'

'If you be in trouble, Besso will aid you as he has done; if you wish to buy camels, Besso will assist you as before; but if you expect ransom for his charge, whom you ought to have placed on your best mare of Nedgid, then I have not brought a para.'

'It is clearly the end of the world,' said Amalek, with a savage sigh.

'Why I am here,' said Eva, 'I am only the child of your child, a woman without spears; why do you not seize me and send to Besso? He must ransom me, for I am the only offspring of his loins. Ask for four millions of piastres I He can raise them. Let him send round to all the cities of Syria, and tell his brethren that a Bedouin Sheikh has made his daughter and her maidens captive, and, trust me, the treasure will be forthcoming. He need not say it is one on whom he has lavished a thousand favours, whose visage was darker than the simoom when he made the great Pasha smile on him; who, however he may talk of living in cities now, could come cringing to El Sham to ask for the contract of the Hadj, by which he had gained ten thousand camels; he need say nothing of all this, and, least of all, need he say that the spoiler is his father!'

'What is this Prince of Franguestan to thee and thine?' said Amalek. 'He comes to our land like his brethren, to see the sun and seek for treasure in our ruins, and he bears, like all of them, some written words to your father, saying, "Give to this man what he asks, and we will give to your people what they ask." I understand all this: they all come to your father because he deals in money, and is the only man in Syria who has money. What he pays, he is again paid. Is it not so, Eva? Daughter of my blood, let there not be strife between us; give me a million piastres, and a hundred camels to the widow of Sheikh Salem, and take the brother of the Queen.'

'Camels shall be given to the widow of Sheikh Salem,' said Eva, in a conciliatory voice; 'but for this ransom of which you speak, my father, it is not a question as to the number of piastres. If you want a million of piastres, shall it be said that Besso would not lend, perhaps give, them to the great Sheikh he loves? But, you see, my father of fathers, piastres and this Frank stranger are not of the same leaven. Name them not together, I pray you; mix not their waters. It concerns the honour, and welfare, and safety, and glory of Besso that you should cover this youth with a robe of power, and place him upon your best dromedary, and send him back to El Khuds.' The great Sheikh groaned.

'Have I opened a gate that I am unable to close?' he at length said. 'What is begun shall be finished. Have the children of Rechab been brought from the sweet wells of Costal to this wilderness ever accursed to fill their purses with stones? Will they not return and say that my beard is too white? Yet do I wish that this day was finished. Name then at once, my daughter, the piastres that you will give; for the prince, the brother of queens, may to-morrow be dust.' 'How so?' eagerly inquired Eva. 'He is a Mejnoun,' replied Amalek. 'After the man named Baroni departed for El Khuds, the Prince of Franguestan would not rest until he visited Gibel Mousa, and I said "Yes" to all his wishes. Whether it were his wound inflamed by his journey, or grief at his captivity, for these Franks are the slaves of useless sorrow, he returned as wild as Kais, and now lies in his tent, fancying he is still on Mount Sinai. 'Tis the fifth day of the fever, and Shedad, the son of Amroo, tells me that the sixth will be fatal unless we can give him the gall of a phoenix, and such a bird is not to be found in this part of Arabia.

Now, you are a great hakeem, my child of children; go then to the young prince, and see what can be done: for if he die, we can scarcely ransom him, and I shall lose the piastres, and your father the backsheesh which I meant to have given him on the transaction.'

'This is very woful,' murmured Eva to herself, and not listening to the latter observations of her grandfather.

At this moment the curtain of the pavilion was withdrawn, and there stood before them Fakredeen. The moment his eyes met those of Eva, he covered his face with both his hands.

'How is the Prince of Franguestan?' inquired Amalek.

The young Emir advanced, and threw himself at the feet of Eva. 'We must entreat the Rose of Sharon to visit him,' he said, 'for there is no hakeem in Arabia equal to her. Yes, I came to welcome you, and to entreat you to do this kind office for the most gifted and the most interesting of beings;' and he looked up in her face with a supplicating glance.

'And you too, are you fearful,' said Eva, in atone of tender reproach, 'that by his death you may lose your portion of the spoil?'

The Emir gave a deprecating glance of anguish, and then, bending his head, pressed his lips to the Bedouin robes which she wore. ''Tis the most unfortunate of coincidences, but believe me, dearest of friends, 'tis only a coincidence. I am here merely by accident; I was hunting, I was——'

'You will make me doubt your intelligence as well as your good faith,' said Eva, 'if you persist in such assurances.'

'Ah! if you but knew him,' exclaimed Fakredeen, 'you would believe me when I tell you that I am ready to sacrifice even my life for his. Far from sharing the spoil,' he added, in a rapid and earnest whisper, 'I had already proposed, and could have insured, his escape; when he went to Sinai, to that unfortunate Sinai. I had two dromedaries here, thoroughbred; we might have reached Hebron before——'

'You went with him to Sinai?'

'He would not suffer it; he desired, he said, to be silent and to be alone. One of the Bedouins, who accompanied him, told me that they halted in the valley, and that he went up alone into the mountain, where he remained a day and night. When he returned hither, I perceived a great change in him. His words were quick, his eye glittered like fire; he told me that he had seen an angel, and in the morning he was as he is now. I have wept, I have prayed for him in the prayers of every religion, I have bathed his temples with liban, and hung his tent with charms. O Rose of Sharon! Eva, beloved, darling Eva, I have faith in no one but in you. See him, I beseech you, see him! If you but knew him, if you had but listened to his voice, and felt the greatness of his thoughts and spirit, it would not need that I should make this entreaty. But, alas! you know him not; you have never listened to him; you have never seen him; or neither he, nor I, nor any of us, would have been here, and have been thus.'



CHAPTER XXXV.

The New Crusader in Peril

NOTWITHSTANDING all the prescient care of the Duke and Duchess of Bellamont, it was destined that the stout arm of Colonel Brace should not wave by the side of their son when he was first attacked by the enemy, and now that he was afflicted by a most severe if not fatal illness, the practised skill of the Doctor Roby was also absent. Fresh exemplification of what all of us so frequently experience, that the most sagacious and matured arrangements are of little avail; that no one is present when he is wanted, and that nothing occurs as it was foreseen. Nor should we forget that the principal cause of all these mischances might perhaps be recognised in the inefficiency of the third person whom the parents of Tancred had, with so much solicitude and at so great an expense, secured to him as a companion and counsellor in his travels. It cannot be denied that if the theological attainments of the Rev. Mr. Bernard had been of a more profound and comprehensive character, it is possible that Lord Montacute might have deemed it necessary to embark upon this new crusade, and ultimately to find himself in the deserts of Mount Sinai. However this may be, one thing was certain, that Tancred had been wounded without a single sabre of the Bellamont yeomanry being brandished in his defence; was now lying dangerously ill in an Arabian tent, without the slightest medical assistance; and perhaps was destined to quit this world, not only without the consolation of a priest of his holy Church, but surrounded by heretics and infidels.

'We have never let any of the savages come near my lord,' said Freeman to Baroni, on his, return.

'Except the fair young gentleman,' added True-man, 'and he is a Christian, or as good.'

'He is a prince,' said Freeman, reproachfully. 'Have I not told you so twenty times? He is what they call in this country a Hameer, and lives in a castle, where he wanted my lord to visit him. I only wish he had gone with my lord to Mount Siny; I think it would have come to more good.'

'He has been very attentive to my lord all the time,' said Trueman; 'indeed, he has never quitted my lord night or day; and only left his side when we heard the caravan had returned.'

'I have seen him,' said Baroni; 'and now let us enter the tent.'

Upon the divan, his head supported by many cushions, clad in a Syrian robe of the young Emir, and partly covered with a Bedouin cloak, lay Tancred, deadly pale, his eyes open and fixed, and apparently unconscious of their presence. He was lying on his back, gazing on the roof of the tent, and was motionless. Fakredeen had raised his wounded arm, which had fallen from the couch, and had supported it with a pile made of cloaks and pillows. The countenance of Tancred was much changed since Baroni last beheld him; it was greatly attenuated, but the eyes glittered with an unearthly fire.

'We don't think he has ever slept,' said Freeman, in a whisper.

'He did nothing but talk to himself the first two days,' said Trueman; 'but yesterday he has been more quiet.'

Baroni advanced to the divan behind the head of Tancred, so that he might not be observed, and then, letting himself fall noiselessly on the carpet, he touched with a light finger the pulse of Lord Montacute.

'There is not too much blood here,' he said, shaking his head.

'You don't think it is hopeless?' said Freeman, beginning to blubber.

'And all the great doings of my lord's coming of age to end in this!' said Trueman. 'They sat down only two less than a hundred at the steward's table for more than a week!'

Baroni made a sign to them to leave the tent. 'God of my fathers!' he said, still seated on the ground, his arms folded, and watching Tancred earnestly with his bright black eyes; 'this is a bad business. This is death or madness, perhaps both. What will M. de Sidonia say? He loves not men who fail. All will be visited on me. I shall be shelved. In Europe they would bleed him, and they would kill him; here they will not bleed him, and he may die. Such is medicine, and such is life! Now, if I only had as much opium as would fill the pipe of a mandarin, that would be something. God of my fathers! this is a bad business.'

He rose softly; he approached nearer to Tancred, and examined his countenance more closely; there was a slight foam upon the lip, which he gently wiped away.

'The brain has worked too much,' said Baroni to himself. 'Often have I watched him pacing the deck during our voyage; never have I witnessed an abstraction so prolonged and so profound. He thinks as much as M. de Sidonia, and feels more. There is his weakness. The strength of my master is his superiority to all sentiment. No affections and a great brain; these are the men to command the world. No affections and a little brain; such is the stuff of which they make petty villains. And a great brain and a great heart, what do they make? Ah! I do not know. The last, perhaps, wears off with time; and yet I wish I could save this youth, for he ever attracts me to him.'

Thus he remained for some time seated on the carpet by the side of the divan, revolving in his mind every possible expedient that might benefit Tancred, and finally being convinced that none was in his power. What roused him from his watchful reverie was a voice that called his name very softly, and, looking round, he beheld the Emir Fakredeen on tiptoe, with his finger on his mouth. Baroni rose, and Fakredeen inviting him with a gesture to leave the tent, he found without the lady of the caravan.