"I saw him this morning, and implored him to be merciful. I went down on my knees before him, and besought him not to take my father's life." "And yet he will do it! I tell you this Mohammed is a fierce youth. Mercy is a word of which he knows nothing. You yourself have seen that he is relentless." "Yes," murmured she ; "he is relentless." "There is, therefore, nothing to be hoped for from him," said the pacha. "The tax must be paid, or the prisoners' heads fall." She sighed profoundly, and covered her face with her hands. She knows it is so; he told her so himself, in an agony of pain and sorrow. The men must pay the tax, or all is lost; her father, or he whom she loves, must die. She knows and feels this; and, therefore, has she come to implore mercy of the stranger, whose gaze fills her with anxiety and terror. She thinks of her father, and of the youth whom she loves, and her tongue is eloquent, for she is pleading for both. "I can help you," said the pacha, tranquilly and haughtily, "and I will do so." "You will?" cried she, joyously; and her eyes sparkled like the stars of heaven, and filled the pacha, whose gaze was still fixed on her; with delight. "You will help me, gracious master, sent by Allah to my assistance, you will deliver my father from prison?" "I will," replied the pacha. "That is, it depends on whether you will grant a request of mine, and do what I wish." "And what is it you desire, master?" asked the innocent, anxious maiden in tremulous tones. He gazed on her passionately, a smile lighting up his countenance. "Lift your veil, and let me look upon your countenance." She shuddered, and drew her veil so closely about her face, that it concealed her eyes also. "O master!" said she, in low tones of entreaty. "As you know, the custom of our land forbids a girl to appear unveiled before a man." "Unless he be the man who takes her into his harem," replied he, smiling. "Yes, master, only before him whom she follows into the harem, and then only when she has already followed him, may she unveil her face before him. Therefore, be merciful, O master! Honor the custom of our land, and do not demand of me what I could never confess to my father!" "Silly girl," answered he. "I do demand it, and, if it is denied me, your father's head falls. You admit he is the only man you love, and your only shield. When he is dead, you will be a beggar, and will not even be able to purchase a veil, for the poor are everywhere unveiled, and are, on that account, no worse than you who mask your faces with veils. Therefore, daughter of the sheik, lift your veil!" "Mercy! mercy!" she exclaimed, raising her hands entreatingly. "I cannot do what you desire. I dare not. I have sworn an oath!" "An oath?" said he, gazing at her piercingly. "To whom did you swear this oath?" She trembled, and did not reply. She felt that she must not confess the truth, for that would be to invoke destruction upon the head of Mohammed.