In deepest humility did the old merchant bow his head, and endeavour to lay hold of the hem of the young man’s crimson caftan, in order to carry it to his lips.

“Enough! enough!” said Ibrahim, whose good temper had returned.  “You spoke in haste and ignorance.  I am well pleased when I break no commandment of the Koran; and trouble my head little about the sayings of those babbling greybeards, the twelve holy Imaums.”

“But the nooses,” expostulated Hassan, not a little scandalized by his companion’s words.

“You have nothing to do but to sleep all night without awaking,” replied the young Turk laughing.  “Then you will have no need either to wash or pray.”

The superstitious old man turned his face to the wall in consternation and anguish of spirit.

“This night have I seen with my own eyes what we have hitherto refused to believe,” resumed Ibrahim after a pause, and in a tone of indignation that echoed through the cavern.  “I am now convinced that the shameless scoundrels do not rob on their own account, since they are obliged to pilfer and conceal a part of their plunder in order to get a profit from their misdeeds.  Marked you not, Hassan, how they trembled when the sun lit up the ravine, lest their tricks should be espied by some sentry on the battlements; and how their panic fear made them carry every thing up to the castle?”

The old Turk bowed his head assentingly.

“Glory be to God and the Sultan!” continued the youth.  “Before the bright countenance of the prophet’s vicegerent, who reigneth in Stamboul, no misdeed can remain hidden that occurs in the remotest corner of his vast dominions.  Nay, much of what happens in the land of the Giaour is also manifest to his penetrating vision.  Witness the veil of turpitude and cunning which has long been seen through by the clear eyes of our holy mollahs, and of the council at the Seraglio, and which has just now been torn away from before me, like a mist dispersing in the sunshine of truth.  Truly spoke the Christian maiden, whom but a few weeks back I took captive in a fight with the Uzcoques, but who was shortly after rescued by another band of those raging fiends.”

“Saw you the maiden,” exclaimed Hassan, “the good maiden that accompanies the pirates, like an angel walking among demons?”

“What know you of the Houri?” eagerly demanded the youth, in vain endeavouring to raise his head from the damp stones.

“That it was the hand of Allah that rescued her from you,” replied the other.  He chastiseth his creatures with rods, but even in his chastisemcnt is mercy.  “How many more had not the dogs and the ravens devoured, had the Christian maiden been taken from among the Uzcoques?  She belongs to them, she is the daughter of their leader, the terrible Dansowich, beside whom she is ever to be found, instilling the musk and amber of mildness into his fierce soul, and pouring healing into the wounds he makes.  I know her not, but often have I heard the Christians, with whom my traffic brought me acquainted, include her in the prayers they addressed to their God.”