He stands where he had stood with Masa; where he had called down imprecations on her head because he thought her faithless; where he had also listened in pious devotion to the holy revelation of her love. Ten years have passed since then. What has remained of those hopes, and of that love? His dreams have ended, and his illusions are dissipated. "O Masa! and people call me a happy man. O Mother Khadra, look down into your son's heart! The voices I long since thought silenced forever, are again aroused--the voices of love and ambition. O mother, it is as though I saw you before me again, and heard you relate your dream! You saw your son standing upon the pinnacle of a palace, a sword uplifted in his hand, a crown encircling his brow, and you knew, mother, that this man with crown and sceptre, attired in purple, was your son; and this man transformed himself into an angel, and flew to you and kissed you. The man you beheld as a prince and hero, has again transformed himself, and this time into a miserable merchant. Nothing has remained to him of the prince, and angel, and hero; he is nothing more than a poor worm of earth!" He cries out loudly and fiercely. All the anguish of former days, all the ungratified longings of the past, are again awakened, and, long pent up, now break forth in a fiery flood, and sweep away and burn to ashes all reason, all calm reflection, all the fruit of these ten long, desolate years of tranquility and patient industry. After a struggle with himself, he arose, and a deep sigh, like a death-groan, escaped his breast. It was his intention to go to Osman and say: "It is settled, I remain! I have just committed a murder on myself; I have killed Mohammed Ali, the eagle, as his mother called him, and there remains only the merchant Mohammed! He will creep on, composedly, over the surface of the earth, collecting tobacco, rolling it into great balls, and rejoicing when he finds his profit in so doing."