Shems-ud-dìn retired early, craving leave to mount to the housetop and drink the fresh air of night. For long he paced the terrace roof in the darkness, then sat crosslegged awhile, then, as his limbs felt cramp, arose and walked again. The great heart of the night beat loud in his ears, and he fancied he could hear respirations, as its cool breath fanned his cheeks. By and by the eastern hill grew black and imminent; a coronal of light appeared; and the moon pushed up her horn, a golden spearpoint against the stars. The flat-roofed houses took shape suddenly, cube by cube. A minute since they had been lost in night’s mystery, at one with the dim hills, the starry sky. Shems-ud-dìn’s prayer ceased not. He prayed for strength in submission. An instant fear haunted him, making this night most terrible. He thought that God would take the life of Alia at once, without delay, and so ratify the covenant of the tree. In tearing down the idolatrous rag from off the branch, he had accepted his daughter’s death at the hand of the Lord. He prayed for perfect resignation. But a wish would outrun the prayer—oh, that Allah would appoint some other victim, as He did of old for Ibrahìm, His friend! With the first dawn he went down into the house to wash before the morning prayer. When his host inquired if he had spent a happy night, he answered Yes, and thanked him kindly. Alia yet lived; nay, Fatmeh pronounced her better than on their arrival the evening before. So the sunrise smiled to him. That day their road led through a forest of terebinths, not dense, but growing singly, or else by clumps of two and three. The path was pied with shade, affording a pleasant diversity; and Alia often looked out from the palanquin with cheerful words to her father. It was late afternoon when they came forth from among the trees. From a bald crown they surveyed a waste of yellow hills tossed and crumpled in the likeness of a stormy sea. They halted, without dismounting, to inhale the keen air of those highlands. Of a sudden Hassan laughed out, and pointed to the valley right below them. In the midst of a green-stained dell swelled a brown mound, in shape nearly oval. By one end of the mound moved a camel, by the other a man. “He must have been to sleep,” laughed Hassan, “and have let go the rope. And now if he catch it ere the Day of Judgment, it will surprise me.” When the man stole round to one side of the hillock, his camel, which till then had been browsing peacefully, lifted its head and stepped round to the other. They could see the headrope dangling as it ran. The man stood still, in thought apparently; for soon, as if struck by a new idea, he started to climb the mound. From the top he caught sight of the camel beneath him, placidly chewing. They could hear his yell of triumph as he rushed down upon it. But he pitched headlong—and by the time he reached level ground his camel was not there. The man sat nursing himself.