"Stay with me, you good, faithful servants. Oh, how anxious I am, how wildly my heart beats! Yet I do not fear for myself, but for my dear friend Mohammed. Pray to Allah for grace and mercy! Yes, let us all pray to Allah!" Mohammed rushes on through the night, down the stone stairway. He flies with the speed of an arrow from rock to rock. Now he is down by the cave. He looks behind him once more. There is nothing to be seen, nowhere a human figure. Nothing! Osman must have been mistaken; no one observed him, no one was there! He creeps through the fissure in the cliff, to the inner grotto to the place where the passage becomes narrow, and where Masa was to have rolled the stone before the opening. He feels for this stone to push it back. But what does this mean? The stone is no longer there, the cave is open! He recoils for a moment with terror. He then resolutely creeps on through the opening. Masa must have forgotten it, that is all! He calls her--no answer. But he had told her to retire into the second grotto, and await him there. There she will be, there she must be. "Masa, where are you? Masa, my white dove, Masa!" All is still; no answer comes, no voice replies in tender greeting to his anxious and repeated call. "Masa! where are you, Masa?" The silence is profound. He utters a cry that resounds fearfully through the cave. He gropes about in the darkness. Then he turns again, and cries out loudly, but all is still as before. He goes back to the passage, and into the first grotto, the one with the large opening in the roof, to the place where the sky can be seen. The clouds have disappeared, and the moon sheds its soft light into the cave. "Masa, are you asleep?" he cries, as he kneels down beside the cushions. But they are empty, and things are thrown about in disorder in the grotto. The moonlight shines brightly in the cave, and shows that a terrible struggle has taken place here. The carpets and cushions are thrown together confusedly; fragments of broken cups and saucers strew the ground, and every thing is overturned. At last he must recognize the fact. Masa is gone, he has been robbed of his Masa. He sinks down upon the earth and cries in loud, heartrending tones: "Masa is gone; the slave-dealer has recovered his slave. Oh, horror, Masa is gone!" He springs to his feet, and rushes toward the entrance; then he stands still again, and cries in piercing tones that make the rocks reverberate: "Masa, where are you?" No answer. It was thus that her father had cried out a few days before: "Masa, where are you?" Punishment has overtaken the undutiful daughter, and him who had harbored her. "Masa, where are you?" For the second time, the agonized voice of love resounded through the cave. Masa is gone.