"There is a treasure hidden here," replied the young nobleman, speaking to himself but thinking of Iola. "As to Afrits, they never cross the sea. However, good Ibn Ayoub, as we have not men enough in the garrison to man all the walls or guard all the gates, we will withdraw into the great hall, light our fire there, and close the door, though we cannot drop the portcullis. Bring as much of the embers in as you can contrive to carry, without burning your garments, and a quantity of wood, of which there seems a great store there in the corner." "'Tis an old gate broken to pieces," said the Arab. "'Twill soon burn, for it is as dry as camel's dung." Chartley waited and listened, while his slave performed the task he had set him about; and then returning to Iola, after he had lighted the lamp, he said-- "I can hear no sound. It was good Ibn Ayoub's fancy, I suppose, though his ears are as sharp as those of a page in a fairy tale. He traced me through the forest to-night, by the sound of my horse's feet, as surely as a hound traces the deer by the scent.--Nay, cheer up, sweet Iola, or we shall both grow sad and fanciful in this old pile. What though we have no Malvoisie, there is better wine than ever flowed from the grape, or was imprisoned in a bottle--the wine of the heart, dear lady, of the heart unconscious of evil, the bright gay spirit, the cheerful contentment with the event of the hour, the fearless trust of the morrow. 'Tis but a little time weaken be together. Let us make the moments pleasant as they fly; for to me they will fly all too soon. Come, let us look round the hall, and see what it contains;" and he held the lamp high up above his head, gazing round, but unable to see the whole of the vast extent of the chamber. "Oh, there is nothing here," answered Iola. "It has been stripped of every thing, long, long ago. But there are some things in the chambers above, which the plunderers did not think it worth while to bring down, I suppose--settles and stools, and a huge bed, which they say was made in the room where it stands, and cannot pass the door." "Come, we will go and see them," cried Chartley. "Sitting on these cold stones is not made for those delicate limbs; and perchance we may find something which we can bring down. But first let the Arab light the fire here; and then we will try and close the great door." No great difficulty occurred in either process; for the Arab contrived, on two broad pieces of wood, to bring in a sufficient quantity of embers speedily to kindle a large fire on the wide hearth of the old hall, and the ponderous door, though it had one or two large holes in it, and groaned most desperately at being forced to turn upon its hinges--a process which it probably had not undergone for more than half a century--nevertheless swung to easily enough, and the heavy bolt was forced into the deep hole made for its reception in the stone-work.