With one glance round, Cuthbert was assured that escape from this garden, at least, was not to be thought of, and that for the present patience alone was possible.  Dismissing all ideas of that kind from his mind, he set to work with a steady attention to his task.  He was very fond of flowers, and soon he became so absorbed in his work as almost to forget that he was a slave.  It was not laborious—­digging, planting, pruning and training the flowers, and giving them copious draughts of water from a large fountain in the center of the garden.

The slaves were not permitted to exchange a word with each other.  At the end of the day’s work they were marched off to separate chambers, or, as they might be called, dungeons.  Their food consisted of water, dried dates, and bread, and they had little to complain of in this respect; indeed, the slaves in the gardens of the governor’s house at Jerusalem enjoyed an exceptionally favored existence.  The governor himself was absorbed in the cares of the city.  The head gardener happened to be a man of unusual humanity, and it was really in his hands that the comfort of the prisoners was placed.

Sometimes in the course of the day veiled ladies would issue in groups from the palace, attended by black slaves with drawn scimiters.  They passed without unveiling across the point where the slaves were at work, and all were forbidden on pain of death to look up, or even to approach the konak or pavilion, where the ladies threw aside their veils, and enjoyed the scent and sight of the flowers, the splash of murmuring waters, and the strains of music touched by skillful hands.

Although Cuthbert wondered in his heart what these strange wrapped-up figures might look like when the veils were thrown back, he certainly did not care enough about the matter to run any risk of drawing the anger of his guards upon himself by raising his eyes toward them; nor did he ever glance up at the palace, which was also interdicted to the slaves.  From the lattice casements during the day the strains of music and merry laughter often came down to the captives; but this, if anything, only added to the bitterness of their position, by reminding them that they were shut off for life from ever hearing the laughter of the loved ones they had left behind.

For upward of a month Cuthbert remained steadily at work, and during that time no possible plan of escape had occurred to him, and he had indeed resigned himself to wait, either until, as he hoped, the city would be taken by the Christians, or until he himself might be removed from his present post and sent into the country, where, although his lot would doubtless be far harder, some chance of escape might open before him.

One night, long after slumber had fallen upon the city, Cuthbert was startled by hearing his door open.  Rising to his feet, he saw a black slave, and an old woman beside him.  The latter spoke first in the lingua-franca: