as much like one as possible, and he had one uncommon virtue, he was greatly generous. If he took with his right hand he gave with his left; and Mahommedan as well as Copt and Armenian, and beggars of every race and creed, hung about his doors each morning to receive the food and alms he gave freely. After one of David’s answers to Kaid, which had had the effect of causing his Highness to turn a sharp corner of conversation by addressing himself to the French consul, Nahoum said suavely: “And so, monsieur, you think that we hold life lightly in the East--that it is a characteristic of civilisation to make life more sacred, to cherish it more fondly?” He was sitting beside David, and though he asked the question casually, and with apparent intention only of keeping talk going, there was a lurking inquisition in his eye. He had seen enough to-night to make him sure that Kaid had once more got the idea of making a European his confidant and adviser; to introduce to his court one of those mad Englishmen who cared nothing for gold--only for power; who loved administration for the sake of administration and the foolish joy of labour. He was now set to see what sort of match this intellect could play, when faced by the inherent contradictions present in all truths or the solutions of all problems. “It is one of the characteristics of that which lies behind civilisation, as thee and me have been taught,” answered David. Nahoum was quick in strategy, but he was unprepared for David’s knowledge that he was an Armenian Christian, and he had looked for another answer. But he kept his head and rose to the occasion. “Ah, it is high, it is noble, to save life--it is so easy to destroy it,” he answered. “I saw his Highness put his life in danger once to save a dog from drowning. To cherish the lives of others, and to be careless of our own; to give that of great value as though it were of no worth--is it not the Great Lesson?” He said it with such an air of sincerity, with such dissimulation, that, for the moment, David was deceived. There was, however, on the face of the listening Kaid a curious, cynical smile. He had heard all, and he knew the sardonic meaning behind Nahoum’s words. Fat High Pasha, the Chief Chamberlain, the corrupt and corruptible, intervened. “It is not so hard to be careless when care would be useless,” he said, with a chuckle. “When the khamsin blows the dust-storms upon the caravan, the camel-driver hath no care for his camels. ‘Malaish!’ he says, and buries his face in his yelek.”