They came evidently from beyond the seraglio wall, and from some boatman on the river.  Then a sort of superstitious awe crept over the slave as she remembered that it was in these very waters that Aphiz had been drowned.  Had his spirit come back to sing to her the song they had so often sung together?  Thus she thought while she listened, and still the same sweet familiar notes came daintily over the night air to her ears.  The only spot that commanded a view beyond the wall was occupied by the sentinel, and Komel could not gratify the almost irresistible desire to satisfy herself with her own eyes from whence these well remembered notes came.  It was either Aphiz’s spirit, or the voice of one born and bred among her native hills—­of this she felt assured.

So marked was her excitement, and so peculiar her behaviour, that the guard seemed at last aroused to take notice of the affair, and in his ignorance of the circumstances, presumed that the serenader, who could be seen in a small boat on the river from the spot where he stood, was attempting some intrigue with the Sultan’s people, and knowing well the object of his being placed there was to prevent such things, he took particular note of both the slave and the serenader for many minutes, until at last, satisfied of the correctness of his surmise, he resolved to gain for himself some credit with his officer, by making an example of the venturesome boatman, whoever he might be.

Where the sentinel stood, as we have said, he could command a perfect view of the spot from whence the song came, and also discern the serenader himself.  He saw him, too, pull the little egg-shell caique in which he sat still nearer the wall of the seraglio.  Komel, too, had observed the guard, and now perceived that it was evident by his actions that he saw some tangible form from whence came that dear song; and as she saw him deliberately raise and aim his carbine towards that direction, she could not suppress an involuntary scream as she beheld the Turkish guard preparing to shoot probably some native of her own dear valley.

There had been another though silent observer of this scene, and as he heard the cry from Komel’s lips, he dropped himself from the tree under which the sentry stood, right upon his shoulders, bearing him to the ground, while the contents of the carbine were cast into the air harmlessly.  The half-witted boy had destroyed the aim, and the alarm given by the report of his carbine enabled the boatman, whoever he was, to make good his escape at once.  The enraged guard turned to vent his anger upon the cause of his failure to kill the boatman, but when he beheld the half-witted being gazing up at the stars as unconcernedly as though nothing had happened, he remembered that the person of the boy was sacred.

With a suppressed oath the guard resumed his weapon, and paced along the path that formed his post.