a duty in which no one else can render you any assistance.” With the more satisfaction, therefore, he turned his attention to the Spanish knight, Hernandez, who welcomed the ladies on board of his vessel with grave politeness and the most obsequious attention. On the following morning, when the emir learned that the ladies had escaped, and that his four-footed sentinel had been found lifeless, he said, “Since the tiger has been thus put to death, I doubt not that the brave Chevalier de Montfaucon has arisen from the tomb in which we laid him, and that he himself has carried away these damsels. They will indeed be well protected under the care of such a hero. Let no one then attempt to pursue them, though, it is true, had such a gem as Bertha von Lichtenried been of the party, my resolutions might have been different from what they now are.” CHAPTER III. How the grand emir rewarded the cunning Alhafiz. Thereafter it seemed as if the spirit of warfare and enterprise possessed more than ever the mind of the grand emir Nurreddin. A fleet of ships was got in readiness, troops were inlisted, arms and provisions collected; though no one could even guess for what purpose he made all these preparations. That some grand object was in view the lookers-on could have no doubt; for it never had been known of the emir, that a slight or unworthy cause had brought him into the battle-field. Late one evening, after a day spent in toil and tumult, Nurreddin was seated on a richly-embroidered couch in his great hall, with a lute on his arm, on which he awoke strange and fitful music, now touching the strings with a light hand like some fond lover, anon almost tearing them asunder, as if in wrathful vehemence. His slaves thought that he was now reposing and diverting himself after the fatigues of the day; but, whoever had marked his fiercely rolling eyes, quivering lips, and the wild alternations of his music, must have perceived, that with this seeming repose had begun indeed the sternest of his conflicts, for he was now at war, not with others, but with himself; and it was at such times only that Nurreddin had ever been known to tremble. While he was thus engaged, lo! there came into the room a tall stately warrior, with a long grizzly beard and gleaming eyes, who was named Abdallah. While he solemnly and slowly delivered the message with which he came, the emir kept his eyes fixed on him; but all the while continued to tear at the strings, till at last some of them snapped asunder, with a long mournful intonation. In a rage, Nurreddin dashed the instrument against a marble pillar. “It is thine own fault,” cried he, “thou senseless harp, because thou hast not understood me.” Then, making a sign, that the attending slaves should withdraw, and that the soldier should sit near him, he began to speak as follows:--