"The worst? What does that mean, mother? You wish to prepare me, I read it in your look; you wish to prepare me for your death! If you die, I will die, too; if you die, my whole life will I bury in the sea, and--" He could speak no further, and heart-sick he bowed his head upon his mother's shoulder. "You are not yourself, poor boy," said she, gently, as she bathed his forehead with water; "you see the body still governs the mind, and long fasting has made you weak. Remember this, my boy. To keep the mind vigorous you must give the body nourishment; if you had not fasted for two days, you would not weep now. Not because you are alarmed, but because you are weak, do you weep." He understood these words of heroism; he understood that maternal love had given her strength to console him with these quiet, matter- of-fact utterances. He tenderly kissed her hands, murmuring: "Sitta Khadra, you are a heroine, and I will learn from you to be a hero." They sat in each other's embrace for a long time, silent, and yet they were speaking to each other with their thoughts and souls, and understood what soul said to soul, and heart to heart. Often, after long years, will the son still think of this hour when he sat by his mother's side, in solitude and silence, his head resting on her bosom--in his glittering palace will he still think of it? In the fulness of his magnificence, with the soul's eye, will he look into this poor, dark little chamber will he longingly think of his mother, of his first and holiest love? "Promise me, Mohammed," said she, after a long silence, "promise me that you will never fast and torture yourself so long again." "I promise you, Sitta Khadra," he replied in a low voice, "you are right; the body must be strengthened that the soul may be strong. I need a strong body that I may be able to climb the rocky pathway of life to the summit, to the eagle's eyry, far above the lowliness of life. I promise you, mother, that from this day I will no longer torture my body, but it shall be taught to defy want, and to subordinate itself to the mind. Do not scold, Mother Khadra, if I am often away from you. In solitude I learn. I converse with the invisible spirits that hover about me in the air. They teach me wondrous things, which I cannot relate to you to-day, but which help me to prepare for the future. Do not forget, mother, when I am away from you, and you need me, to call me with the eagle's cry." A faint smile trembled on her lips. "If, however, son of my heart, I should be unable to utter this cry, if my voice should be too weak to reach you-" He again regarded her with an anxious, inquiring look. "Can that be, Sitta Khadra? Do you believe your voice can become so weak?" "Be reassured, my son; I neither believe nor fear it, but yet it might be."