The leech never talked of daily events, but expressed his views as to other and graver subjects in life, or in books with which they were both familiar; and he had the art of eliciting replies from her which he met with wit and acumen.  By degrees she had become accustomed to his bold mode of thought, sometimes, it is true, too recklessly expressed; and the gifted girl now preferred a discussion with him to any other form of conversation, recognizing that a childlike and supremely unselfish soul animated this thoughtful reservoir of all knowledge.  Almost everything she did displeased her uncle’s wife, and so, of course, did her familiar intercourse with this man, whose appearance certainly had in it nothing to attract a young girl.—­The physician to a family of rank was there to keep its members in good health, and it was unbecoming in one of them to converse with him on intimate terms as an equal.  She reproached Paula—­whose pride she was constantly blaming—­for her unseemly condescension to Philippus; but what chiefly annoyed her was that Paula took up many a half-hour which otherwise Philippus would have devoted to her husband; and in him and his health her life and thoughts were centred.

The Arab at once recognized his foe of the previous evening; but they soon came to a friendly understanding—­Paula confessing her folly in holding a single and kindly-disposed man answerable for the crimes of a whole nation.  Haschim replied that a right-minded spirit always came to a just conclusion at last; and then the conversation turned on her father, and the physician explained to the Arab that she was resolved never to weary of seeking the missing man.

“Nay, it is the sole aim and end of my life,” cried the girl.

“A great mistake, in my opinion,” said the leech.  But the merchant differed:  there were things, he said, too precious to be given up for lost, even when the hope of finding them seemed as feeble and thin as a rotten reed.

“That is what I feel!” cried Paula.  “And how can you think differently, Philip?  Have I not heard from your own lips that you never give up all hope of a sick man till death has put an end to it?  Well, and I cling to mine—­more than ever now, and I feel that I am right.  My last thought, my last coin shall be spent in the search for my father, even without my uncle and his wife, and in spite of their prohibition.”

“But in such a task a young girl can hardly do without a man’s succor,” said the merchant.  “I wander a great deal about the world, I speak with many foreigners from distant lands, and if you will do me the honor, pray regard me as your coadjutor, and allow me to help you in seeking for the lost hero.”

“Thanks—­I fervently thank you!” cried Paula, grasping the Moslem’s hand with hearty pleasure.  “Wherever you go bear my lost father in mind; I am but a poor, lonely girl, but if you find him. . .”

“Then you will know that even among the Moslems there are men. . .”