‘He did nothing but talk to himself the first two days,’ said Trueman; ‘but yesterday he has been more quiet.’ Baroni advanced to the divan behind the head of Tancred, so that he might not be observed, and then, letting himself fall noiselessly on the carpet, he touched with a light finger the pulse of Lord Montacute. ‘There is not too much blood here,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You don’t think it is hopeless?’ said Freeman, beginning to blubber. ‘And all the great doings of my lord’s coming of age to end in this!’ said Trueman. ‘They sat down only two less than a hundred at the steward’s table for more than a week!’ Baroni made a sign to them to leave the tent. ‘God of my fathers!’ he said, still seated on the ground, his arms folded, and watching Tancred earnestly with his bright black eyes; ‘this is a bad business. This is death or madness, perhaps both. What will M. de Sidonia say? He loves not men who fail. All will be visited on me. I shall be shelved. In Europe they would bleed him, and they would kill him; here they will not bleed him, and he may die. Such is medicine, and such is life! Now, if I only had as much opium as would fill the pipe of a mandarin, that would be something. God of my fathers! this is a bad business.’ He rose softly; he approached nearer to Tancred, and examined his countenance more closely; there was a slight foam upon the lip, which he gently wiped away. ‘The brain has worked too much,’ said Baroni to himself. ‘Often have I watched him pacing the deck during our voyage; never have I witnessed an abstraction so prolonged and so profound. He thinks as much as M. de Sidonia, and feels more. There is his weakness. The strength of my master is his superiority to all sentiment. No affections and a great brain; these are the men to command the world. No affections and a little brain; such is the stuff of which they make petty villains. And a great brain and a great heart, what do they make? Ah! I do not know. The last, perhaps, wears off with time; and yet I wish I could save this youth, for he ever attracts me to him.’ Thus he remained for some time seated on the carpet by the side of the divan, revolving in his mind every possible expedient that might benefit Tancred, and finally being convinced that none was in his power. What roused him from his watchful reverie was a voice that called his name very softly, and, looking round, he beheld the Emir Fakredeen on tiptoe, with his finger on his mouth. Baroni rose, and Fakredeen inviting him with a gesture to leave the tent, he found without the lady of the caravan. ‘I want the Rose of Sharon to see your lord,’ said the young Emir, very anxiously, ‘for she is a great hakeem among our people.’ ‘Perhaps in the desert, where there is none to be useful, I might not be useless,’ said Eva, with some reluctance and reserve. ‘Hope has only one arrow left,’ said Baroni, mournfully. ‘Is it indeed so bad?’