"Yes, Masa, you are right!" exclaimed Mohammed, in tones of enthusiasm. "Life is as a single day. When the sun sets, night comes, and we sink down and dream, and in our dream we are conscious only of the love of the blissful day. Yes, life is but a day, and may this day end blissfully for us as it began! It is dark around us, and I cannot see you. But look, Allah is kind; he sends us his light. The moon has broken forth from behind the clouds, and it shines into our grotto and illumines your fair face. The moon and the stars love you, Masa; yet they shall not tear you from me. No, Masa must remain with me, that my life may not end in darkness and misery, that I may be happy. O good moon, messenger of the prophet, with your brilliancy you light up the countenance of my houri. Journey on in your course, good moon, and tell the houris and the angels above that one of their sisters has remained here in the paradise grotto, and that this houri is mine; mine--in the name of Heaven." He pressed her to his heart and laid his head in her lap. Both were silent. Suddenly a loud report resounded through the stillness of the night. Mohammed released himself from her arms, and sprang in terror to his feet. "That was the report of a pistol-shot. Alas! it awakens me from my dreams. All bliss is at an end, the earth is again here, and calls me from paradise." "You will leave me, Mohammed!" cried she, rising from her cushion. "Mohammed, you intend to leave me tonight?" "O Masa, I must! Do not tremble, my white dove; all our troubles and anxieties will soon be at an end. That report was the signal that Cousrouf Pacha is preparing to depart." "Is it then really true?" asked Masa, her countenance beaming with delight. "The pacha takes his departure and restores me to freedom!" "It is true," said Mohammed. "He was to have embarked yesterday evening, and who knows but that when the sun rises the ship will long since have sailed out of the harbor. Yet we must be cautious. It might be only a pretence, to lull us into false security. It is for this reason, Masa, that I dare not pass the night here. His spies, who follow and observe me everywhere, might announce to him that Mohammed Ali had again passed the night elsewhere than in his house. Let us be cautious while misfortune with its black pinions still hovers over us. Afterward the sun will shine for us. Consider this, Masa, and I will conduct you out into life again as soon as he shall have left the harbor. The whole earth shall then be our paradise. Let us, therefore, wait and be patient." She stood there thoughtfully; she, too, was awakened from her dream, and life with its cares and anxieties had laid its hold on her. "How is my father? " asked she, anxiously. "O Mohammed, I have forgotten him and his sufferings since you have been with me. You are silent. He is dead. Oh, grief for his daughter has killed my good father! "