He shook his head. "No, Sitta Khadra, I will not drink of the wine sent you by the noble merchant to restore your strength. Water from the well, from the spring of life, is a better drink for me. For you, the Cyprian wine, for me the spring-wine that bubbles from the rock." He took down the gourd cup from the wall, and went out and quenched his thirst with long draughts at the spring, and then returned to his mother. He was now restored to strength and vigor; the color returned to his cheeks, and his knees no longer trembled. "My eyes' delight, my Mohammed fresh and full of life again!" cried Mother Khadra. "Light of my life, I am glad to see you yourself again. But I beg you, my boy, not to make such cruel experiments on yourself. It is wholesome to harden the body, but not to abuse it, and you abuse your own handsome self when you torment yourself with hunger and thirst unnecessarily." "Not unnecessarily, Mother Khadra," he replied, shaking his head. "He, only, who knows how to practise self-denial, can enjoy. At first I couldn't understand this, now I do, and have experienced it in myself. I have practised self-denial for two days, and now I have enjoyed; and thus it shall be in the future, Sitta Khadra. I shall learn to do without, in order that I may enjoy. Do not scold me for this; do not say, with the rest, that I am an obstinate boy! I am not, mother, but I must prepare myself for the future which you have announced to me. Your dream must be realized, and therefore must I do what I am doing. Let me have my way, and remember that Allah is with me everywhere. And remember this, too, mother, that wherever I may be, I shall hear your call should you need me. If, at any time when I am not here, you should need me, you have only to step out before the door, and imitate the scream of the eagle when he hovers in the air over his nest, and announces to his brood that he is coming. You recollect hearing it when we were on the cliffs together the other day. I pointed to an eagle hovering in the air, imitated his cry, and begged you to do so too. It was not done without a purpose, mother: I wished you to learn his cry, in order that you, too, might call your brood in case of need." The mother smiled. "A strange idea! What would people think if I should step out before the door, and scream into the air in the tones of an eagle?" "Let people think what they please, mother," said he, with a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders. "What care we? They already laugh at and mock us. But a time shall come, Sitta Khadra, when they shall bow down before you, and I only implore that Allah may permit you to live to see the time when your son shall stand on the palace, and wield his sword over humanity. Why do you sigh, mother?" he asked hastily, and what he had never before observed, suddenly occurred to him; her cheeks were sunken, and her face pale. "Why do you weep, mother?"