"That is it, that is then the reason I am led away captive," cried Mohammed, not in threatening or lamenting tones, but joyously, for he feels that Cousrouf has answered the question with which he had vainly tormented himself; he had hesitated, now he feels that he has advanced a step farther toward his aim. Now he knows what he has to do; Fate has pointed out the road to his goal through Butheita, and he feels that she will lead him on until he reaches the throne seen by his mother in her dreams, and becomes the avenger of her he loved, of his Masa. She still gazed upon the upturned countenance of her prisoner, now lighted up by the rosy light of the morning sun; she is struck with the tone of his voice, and is surprised to learn that the sarechsme is not dejected at his captivity. "You rejoice," said she, smiling, and again displaying her beautiful teeth. "You rejoice over your captivity." "I should like to be such a captive forever, Butheita; it is heavenly to be encircled in these fair arms." "You are singing your sweet songs again, and oh, they sound so sweet!" said she. And yet, as he attempts to lay his head closer to her shoulder, she timidly recoils with an anxious look in her eyes. "Not so, stranger. Honor the hospitality of my house, for my dromedary is my house, and I wish you to be my guest. And, that you may see that Butheita is sensible of the duties of a hostess, accept this banana and refresh yourself; you will need it." She takes two bananas from the bag that hangs at the side of the saddle, and with delight Mohammed sees her peel the rich fruit, which she hands him with a delicious smile. "Eat, stranger; eat, and refresh yourself." She has forgotten that he is bound, and that he cannot take the fruit from her hand. "This heavenly fruit must be administered by your fair hand alone," said he. "As my hands are bound, you must hold it to my lips yourself. Oh, that they were to be refreshed with yours instead of the banana!" She smiles and looks down, blushingly. She then breaks the fruit and brings it to his lips in little morsels. And each time he raises his lips so high, that they touch not only the fruit but also her delicate brown fingers. It was sweet play, and Mohammed forgets all else. This night, minutes have been as hours to him, and now he would have them become eternities. Lovely is this child of the desert that bends down over him; a whole world of maidenly purity and sweetness Fate has pointed out the road to his goal through Butheita, and he feels that she will lead him on until he reaches the throne seen by his mother in her dreams, and becomes the avenger of her he loved, of his Masa. She still gazed upon the upturned countenance of her prisoner, now lighted up by the rosy light of the morning sun; she is struck with the tone of his voice, and is surprised to learn that the sarechsme is not dejected at his captivity.