cleaver. They advanced with furious shouts
towards the great door of the house—no
sound emanating from within, no sign
revealing that it was inhabited.

An unexpected circumstance put a stop to
the meditated assault. A lady followed by a
slave, and at a little distance by a young
man, appeared in the court of the Cassar,
advancing towards the house of Gamadel.
She was carelessly veiled; and what could be
seen of her countenance was so beautiful,
that the most furious of the crowd stopped;
presently all ranged themselves on either
hand, to let her pass. She advanced at first
boldly and then seemed to hesitate, as if
uncertain whither she was going.

"Is this the house of Gamadel ? " she
inquired.

They answered that it was; but, their anger
and their terror reviving at that word, all
implored her not to enter, repeating the
terrible suspicions that had troubled them for
so many months past. She smiled incredulously,
and announced her intention to enter,
with so much confidence, that the people
began to doubt what they had previously
seemed so certain about. This lady spoke
of Gamadel so tenderly, and as if from so
complete a knowledge, that all marvelled.

Suddenly the young man whom we have
mentioned came forward. It was no other
than Cathalla. He had seen the lady riding
slowly along the street, and having been
smitten with love for her had followed, not
knowing what he desired or what he hoped.
With passionate entreaties he also besought
her not to enter; and his words and manner
showed clearly what was the reason of his
interference. The lady looked benevolently
at him and smiled sadly; but without
answering advanced towards the great doorway.
Cathalla would have followed; but the crowd
surrounded him; and when he succeeded in
passing through, thrusting back their hands
on either side, the grim vast door had closed
upon the form, the image of which remained
like a burning coal in his breast.

He listened gloomily to the horrible stories,
or rather the horrible surmises related to
him, and then went away. But he could not
leave the neighbourhood of the place where
the object of his sudden love had disappeared
beneath a roof of terror, like a bright stream
leaping into a yawning chasm of the earth.
Going round the Cassar by the fields, he
recognised the tomb where he had once
passed a night, and the great wall of the
house which the black man had entered in
so strange a manner. What he had just heard
seemed a comment on what he had seen
formerly.

"I will return," he said, " when darkness
comes, and watch."

So, he wandered away to the river side, and
remaining there until an hour after sunset,
came back by moonlight to the tomb.  Here
he lay down and waited patiently.  Time
passed by. He heard the muezzins from the
mosques calling to prayer long after the hum
of the great city near at hand had died away.
Occasionally in the suburbs and in the
villages scattered over the fields, packs of dogs
barked at some wayfarer. The wind that
blew sometimes seemed to sing amongst the
sugar-canes. The monotony of watchfulness
overcame him, and he slept. But,
as before, he was awakened by the sound of
voices:

"Look around," said some one overhead
"I saw that young dreamer prowl in this
direction. What if he play the spy?"

"Does he wish to go with the other?"
growled the black man, looking to the right
and to the left, and then advancing towards
the tomb. Cathalla beheld the gleam of a
sword, and knew that he must kill or be
killed. He drew a dagger and stood inside
the ruined doorway, breathless as one watching
by a sick bedside. The black man, who
strange to say wore the mantle of a woman,
entered without much caution, and fell on his
face dead; for, the dagger of Cathalla at the
first blow pierced him to the heart. The
young man, made reckless by the excess of
his passion for the unknown lady, instantly
tore off the mantle, threw it over his own
head, and taking the dead man's sword, went
forth towards the house to the place where
the ladder was let down as before. He
mounted eagerly, no one speaking to him,
and reaching the window entered and stood
firmly on the floor before the other black took
notice of him. A cry of terror and warning
was interrupted by death; and Cathalla
stepped over this second corpse and
proceeded to explore the interior of the house.

A long passage, at the extremity of which
burned a light, presented itself to him. It
led to a chamber with a lamp in a niche
opening upon a kind of terrace. Advancing
cautiously, Cathalla leaned over the parapet,
and looking down beheld a sight that
convinced him how unfounded had been the
suspicions of the people of the Cassar—at any
rate in one instance. A veil seemed to drop
from before his eyes. Had he been a
murderer without just cause? Were the two
lives he had taken, innocent? He might
have retired with fear and trembling, but
a stronger passion than remorse restrained
him.

He beheld the lady who, according to the
villagers, had gone to certain death, sitting
dressed in splendid garments on a kind of
raised throne in the centre of a little garden,
beautifully shaded by trees and cooled by a
fountain that gushed amidst flowers. Near
her feet, reclining on a low divan, was the
young man known as Gamadel. He seemed
to gaze at her with passionate adoration, and
now and then uttered a few words the sense
of which did not come to the ears of Cathalla.
Probably, however, he was pressing her to
sing; for, presently she took a lute, and