Did he not know where he was going? Ah, but his heart told him. Somewhere in that fiery-eyed town, into which entrance was impossible, was she for whom he was made, she with the eyes of night and the history of his soul written on the curves of her lips. And inasmuch as she was there, the rekindled fever of his love drew him thither, neither willing nor unwilling, but steel to the magnet, a moth to the star. He had taken off his shoes in order to get a better grip in the crevices of the wall, and went down barefooted over the basalt rocks all ashine with dew. The moon had strayed westward beyond the zenith, casting his shadow a little in front of him, and round his head as he walked moved an opaline halo. Then he crossed the mountain stream and stood in it for a moment, for the coldness of the moon and the eternal youth of night had entered into its waters, making them vigorous and bracing. A little wind drawing down its course was full of the scent of water and green things, and streamed out to renovate the hot air of the plain. Then on again through a little belt of vineyard, still close to the camp and not destroyed, where the stream talked less noisily in the soft earth, with a whiff of summer from the ripening bunches, and the scuttle of some disturbed hare come down to feed on the leaves. Then he crossed the stream again, which lay in an elbow southward, and, pushing through a clump of oleanders which rose above his head, came out into the plain. The earth was warm under foot after the cold rocks, and he ran plunging across it, till, getting within a stone's-throw of the wall, he crept more slowly, and finally lay down in the shadow of a felled olive-tree, and looked to see if there was aught stirring. [Illustration: "HE HAD CLAMBERED UP AND DROPPED DOWN ON THE OTHER SIDE"] The battlemented line of the wall opposite to him stood up clear-cut between the moon and the lights of the town, twenty feet above him, and ran on southward into vague shadow, untenanted. Fifty yards to the left it was interrupted, or rather crowned, by half a dozen big houses, built flush with the wall, pierced by several rows of rather narrow windows, the lower of which were barred, the upper, from their height, needing no such defence. As he crept up alongside of these he heard the subdued murmur of women's voices from within the first house--the home, perhaps, of some Turkish captain and his harem; and the sound of women's voices made mirth to him, and he listened for a while, smiling to himself. From the next house came more such music, and once a woman walked to the window and stood looking out for a minute, or perhaps two, unveiled and playing with the tassel of the blind-cord, till from within some one called her by a purring Turkish name, and she turned into the house again.