Cousrouf makes no reply, but only gazes defiantly upon his enemy; gradually his head sinks down upon his breast. Yes, he is vanquished and a prisoner, a prisoner of his worst enemy. He could be in no worse hands than in those that now hold him. To become Mohammed Ali's prisoner was the worst that could befall him. And vanquished and captured he is, by this his most relentless enemy! With him are vanquished all his followers, and nothing is left of the fortress of Damietta but ashes and ruins. The victors have decided to send Cousrouf a prisoner to Cairo, to the citadel where he once sat enthroned. Mohammed entered the apartment in a half-burned house of Damietta in which Cousrouf was confined. None else is in the room. Without, the sentinel is pacing to and fro, and in an adjoining room lie two Nubian slaves who have remained faithful to their master, wounded and exhausted by loss of blood. Cousrouf sees Mohammed enter, and a groan escapes his breast; involuntarily he carries his hand to his belt. He is unarmed! He cannot hurl himself upon him, and in his downfall destroy him also. Mohammed stands before him, armed, his eyes fixed on him in a hard, cruel gaze. Cousrouf feels this, glance, and knows that his enemy rejoices in his humiliation. For a long time no word is spoken. At last Cousrouf raises his eyes and endeavors to look his enemy in the face; but he cannot. So terrible, so threatening is his expression, that Cousrouf shudders. It seems to him at this moment that an avenging angel stands before him; and the viceroy, usually so haughty and overbearing, feels humiliated and helpless. "Cousrouf Pacha," said Mohammed, after a long pause, "look at me! I have long worn a mask; you placed it on my countenance, and I allowed you to do so, and awaited my time. Cousrouf Pacha, raise your eyes and look at me! I no longer wear a mask!" Cousrouf looked up at him, and now his glance was firm, and his countenance composed. " I see, Mohammed Ali, sarechsme by my grace, I see that you now wear a mask. He who now stands before me is hardly a human being, but the mere embodiment of hatred--envy and hatred personified." "You mistake, Cousrouf," replied Mohammed in haughty tones. "Not envy and hatred, but vengeance personified. Cousrouf, I have awaited this hour for thirteen years. Am I not to enjoy it now? Do you think I would relinquish it for all the wealth and power of the world?"