“No coffee, no sherbet; thanks, good father,” said Cecil, in answer to the Moor’s hospitable entreaties.  “Give me only license to sit in the quiet here.  I am very tired.”

“Sit and be welcome, my son,” said Ben Arsli.  “Whom should this roof shelter in honor, if not thee?  Musjid shall bring thee the supreme solace.”

The supreme solace was a nargile, and its great bowl of rose-water was soon set down by the little Moorish lad at Cecil’s side.  Whether fatigue really weighted his eyes with slumber, or whether the soothing sedative of the pipe had its influence, he had not sat long in the perfect stillness of the Moor’s shop before the narrow view of the street under the awning without was lost to him, the luster and confusion of shadowy hues swam a while before his eyes, the throbbing pain in his temples grew duller, and he slept—­the heavy, dreamless sleep of intense exhaustion.

Ben Arsli glanced at him, and bade Musjid be very quiet.  Half an hour or more passed; none had entered the place.  The grave old Moslem was half slumbering himself, when there came a delicate odor of perfumed laces, a delicate rustle of silk swept the floor; a lady’s voice asked the price of an ostrich-egg, superbly mounted in gold.  Ben Arsli opened his eyes—­the Chasseur slept on; the newcomer was one of those great ladies who now and then winter in Algeria.

Her carriage waited without; she was alone, making purchase of those innumerable splendid trifles with which Algiers is rife, while she drove through the town in the cooler hour before the sun sank into the western sea.

The Moor rose instantly, with profound salaams, before her, and began to spread before her the richest treasures of his stock.  Under plea of the light, he remained near the entrance with her; money was dear to him, and must not be lost, but he would make it, if he could, without awakening the tired soldier.  Marvelous caskets of mother-of-pearl; carpets soft as down with every brilliant hue melting one within another; coffee equipages, of inimitable metal work; silver statuettes, exquisitely chased and wrought; feather-fans, and screens of every beauty of device, were spread before her, and many of them were bought by her with that unerring grace of taste and lavishness of expenditure which were her characteristics, but which are far from always found in unison; and throughout her survey Ben Arsli kept her near the entrance, and Cecil had slept on, unaroused by the low tones of their voices.

A roll of notes had passed from her hand to the Moslem’s and she was about to glide out to her carriage, when a lamp which hung at the farther end caught her fancy.  It was very singular; a mingling of colored glass, silver, gold, and ivory being wrought in much beauty in its formation.

“Is that for sale?” she inquired.

As he answered in the affirmative, she moved up the shop, and, her eyes being lifted to the lamp, had drawn close to Cecil before she saw him.  When she did so, she paused near in astonishment.