Preparations all this time had been making for the feast. Half a dozen sheep had been given to the returning band; everywhere resounded the grinding of coffee; men passed, carrying pitchers of leban and panniers of bread cakes hot from their simple oven. The great Sheikh, who had asked many questions after the oriental fashion: which was the most powerful nation, England or France; what was the name of a third European nation of which he had heard, white men with flat noses in green coats; whether the nation of white men with flat noses in green coats could have taken Acre as the English had, the taking of Acre being the test of military prowess; how many horses the Queen of the English had, and how many slaves; whether English pistols are good; whether the English drink wine; whether the English are Christian giaours or Pagan giaours? and so on, now invited Tancred, Sheikh Hassan, and two or three others, to enter his pavilion and partake of the banquet. ‘The Sheikh must excuse me,’ said Tancred to Baroni; ‘I am wearied and wounded. Ask if I can retire and have a tent.’ ‘Are you wounded?’ said the young Sheikh, who was sitting on the carpet of Amalek, and speaking, not only in a tone of touching sympathy, but in the language of Franguestan. ‘Not severely,’ said Tancred, less abruptly than he had yet spoken, for the manner and the appearance of the youth touched him, ‘but this is my first fight, and perhaps I make too much of it. However, my arm is painful and stiff, and indeed, you may conceive after all this, I could wish for a little repose.’ ‘The great Sheikh has allotted you a compartment of his pavilion,’ said the youth; ‘but it will prove a noisy resting-place, I fear, for a wounded man. I have a tent here, an humbler one, but which is at least tranquil. Let me be your host!’ ‘You are most gracious, and I should be much inclined to be your guest, but I am a prisoner,’ he said, haughtily, ‘and cannot presume to follow my own will.’ ‘I will arrange all,’ said the youth, and he conversed with Sheikh Amalek for some moments. Then they all rose, the young man advancing to Tancred, and saying in a sweet coaxing voice, ‘You are under my care. I will not be a cruel gaoler; I could not be to you.’ So saying, making their reverence to the great Sheikh, the two young men retired together from the arena. Baroni would have followed them, when the youth stopped him, saying, with decision, ‘The great Sheikh expects your presence; you must on no account be absent. I will tend your chief: you will permit me?’ he inquired in a tone of sympathy, and then, offering to support the arm of Tancred, he murmured, ‘It kills me to think that you are wounded.’