The two walk stealthily and rapidly down the garden-path. Osman listens to their retreating footsteps, and, as they die away in the distance, he draws a breath of relief. They are good, zealous servants, and will obey his instructions faithfully. He listens again eagerly, and again looks over toward the harem, where be sees the lights still flitting about and shadows passing the windows. Osman's heart tells him that something unusual, something that bodes no good to his friend, is going on there, and his love gives strength to his poor, weak body. He rises from his cushions; his limbs are stiff, and his breast pains him, but he is heedless of this. Cautiously he descends the steps into the garden, and walks noiselessly down the pathway. He knows that a high hedge separates the garden of the harem from the rest of the park at the end of this path. Hitherto all have respected this boundary, and no one has dared to cross it; may the good spirits pardon the young man for venturing to do so now! He is in the garden of the harem. It is certainly dangerous to enter it, and, if the eunuchs should discover him there, they would seize him. But, fortunately, he is the tschorbadji's son, and that will protect him. He is on his father's property. He walks onward, no longer painfully; he no longer feels that his breast hurts him; he is only thinking of his friend; he can perhaps discover something for him, perhaps something for him. He now stands still and listens. In the distance he hears the reports of the pistol. "Ah, Mohammed is warned! He has been aroused from his sweet repose, and will come to me." But he must know what all this disturbance and running about means. Osman has approached close to the harem, and stands at the iron gate that opens into the court-yard. He stands there for a moment and listens, and then crosses the court-yard and looks toward the door in the wall that opens into the street. All is still in the house, as in the yard; but now he hears a noise at the door that opens into the vestibule of the building. It is opened, and two dark figures appear, and descend the steps into the yard. They are carrying something; it looks like a cot; it is a cot covered with white sheets, but it is empty. They carry it across the yard, and out into the street. He hears them lock the door from the outside; hears the murmuring of voices, and then all is again quiet. What was the cot intended for? What could it all mean? He listens, and looks around anxiously; but all is still. Perhaps his care and anxiety have been groundless; perhaps these are only things the servants are carrying to the ship to prepare for Cousrouf's departure on the morrow. He again listens awhile, and then returns through the garden to the pavilion. Wearily he throws himself on his cushions, and lies there, for a moment, with closed eyes.