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Cornell University Library 
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 3 1924 010 734 196 
 
NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924010734196 
 
HOBERT LOTUS .STEVENSON 
 
 From a portrait taken at San Francisco in 1S79. 
 Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons. 
 
NEW 
 ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 BY 
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 NEW YORK ^^i;U^^''^ 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS , 
 
 191 S A'' 
 
 ■_^' 
 
 URIS LIBRARI ^ 
 
 APR 22 1385 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 THE SUICIDE CLUB page 
 
 Story op the Young Man with the Cream Tarts . . 3 
 Story of the Physician and the Saratoga Trunk . 38 
 The Adventure op the Hansom Cab .... 69 
 
 THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 
 
 Story of the Bandbox 93 
 
 Story of the Young Man in Holy Orders ... 122 
 Story of the House with the Green Blinds . . 140 
 The Adventure of Prince Florizel and the 
 
 Detektive 176 
 
 THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 184 
 
 A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 251 
 
 THE SIRE DE MAL^TROIT'S DOOR 276 
 
 PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 301 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Robert Louis Stevenson . . . Frontispiece 
 
 facing page 
 Edinburgh Home of the Stevenson Familt, 1853-1887 . 186 
 
NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
TO 
 
 ROBERT ALAN MOWBRAY STEVENS(»J 
 
 IN GRATEFUL REMEMBRANCE OF THEIR YOUTH 
 AND THEIR ALREADY OLD AFFECTION 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 
 
 STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN WITH THE 
 CREAM TARTS 
 
 During his residence in London, the accomplished 
 Prince Florizel of Bohemia gained the affection of all 
 classes by the seduction of his manner and by a well- 
 considered generosity. He was a remarkable man even 
 by what was known of him; and that was but a small 
 part of what he actually did. Although of a placid tem- 
 per in ordinary circumstances, and accustomed to take the 
 world with as much philosophy as any ploughman, the 
 Prince of Bohemia was not without a taste for ways of 
 life more adventurous and eccentric than that to which he 
 was destined by his birth. Now and then, when he fell 
 into a low humor, when there was no laughable play to 
 witness in any of the London theatres, and when the season 
 of the year was unsuitable to those field sports in which 
 he excelled all competitors, he would summon his confi- 
 dant and Master of the Horse, Colonel Geraldine, and bid 
 him prepare himself against an evening ramble. The 
 Master of the Horse was a young officer of a brave and 
 even temerarious disposition. He greeted the news with 
 delight, and hastened to make ready. Long practice and 
 a varied acquaintance of life had given him a singular 
 facility in disguise; he could adapt not only his face and 
 bearing, but his voice and almost his thoughts, to those of 
 any rank, character, or nation; and in this way he diverted 
 attention from the Prince, and sometimes gained admis- 
 
4 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 sion for the pair into strange societies. The civil authori- 
 ties were never taken into the secret of these adventures; 
 the imperturbable courage of the one and the ready inven- 
 tion and chivalrous devotion of the other had brought 
 them through a score of dangerous passes; and they grew 
 in confidence as time went on. 
 
 One evening in March they were driven by a sharp fall 
 of sleet into an Oyster Bar in the immediate neighbor- 
 hood of Leicester Square. Colonel Geraldine was dressed 
 and painted to represent a person connected with the 
 Press in reduced circumstances; while the Prince had, as 
 usual, travestied his appearance by the addition of false 
 whiskers and a pair of large adhesive eyebrows. These 
 lent him a shaggy and weather-beaten air, which, for one 
 of his urbanity, formed the most impenetrable disguise. 
 Thus equipped, the commander and his satellite sipped 
 their brandy and soda in security. 
 
 The bar was full of guests, both male and female; but 
 though more than one of these offered to fall into talk 
 with our adventurers, none of them promised to grow 
 interesting upon a nearer acquaintance. There was noth- 
 ing present but the lees of London and the commonplace 
 of disrespectability; and the Prince had already fallen 
 to yawning, and was beginning to grow weary of the 
 whole excursion, when the swing doors were pushed vio- 
 lently open, and a young man, followed by a couple of 
 commissionaires, entered the bar. Each of the com- 
 missionaires carried a large dish of cream tarts under 
 a cover, which they at once removed; and the young 
 man made the round of the company, and pressed these 
 confections upon everyone's acceptance with an exag- 
 gerated courtesy. Sometimes his offer was laughingly 
 accepted; sometimes it was firmly, or even harshly, re- 
 jected. In these latter cases the newcomer always ate 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 5 
 
 the tart himself, with some more or less humorous com- 
 mentary. 
 
 At last he accosted Prince Florizel. 
 
 "Sir," said he, with a profound obeisance, proffering 
 the tart at the same time between his thumb and fore- 
 finger, ' 'will you so far honor an entire stranger? I can 
 answer for the quality of the pastry, having eaten two 
 dozen and three of them myself since five o'clock." 
 
 "I am in the habit," replied the Prince, "of looking 
 not so much to the nature of a gift as to the spirit in 
 which it is offered. ' ' 
 
 "The spirit, sir, ' ' returned the young man, with another 
 bow, "is one of mockery." 
 
 "Mockery?" repeated Florizel. "And whom do you 
 propose to mock?" 
 
 "I am not here to expound my philosophy," replied 
 the other, "but to distribute these cream tarts. If I 
 mention that I heartily include myself in the ridicule 
 of the transaction, I hope you will consider honor satis- 
 fied and condescend. If not, you will constrain me to 
 eat my twenty-eighth, and I own to being weary of the 
 exercise." 
 
 "You touch me," said the Prince, "and I have all the 
 will in the world to rescue you from this dilemma, but 
 upon one condition. If my friend and I eat your cakes — 
 for which we have neither of us any natural inclination 
 — we shall expect you to join us at supper by way of 
 recompense. ' ' 
 
 The young man seemed to reflect. 
 
 "I have still several dozen upon hand," he said at last; 
 "and that will make it necessary for me to visit several 
 more bars before my great affair is concluded. This will 
 take some time; and if you are hungry " 
 
 The Prince interrupted him with a polite gesture. 
 
6 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "My friend and I will accompany you," he said; "for 
 we have already a deep interest in your very agreeable 
 mode of passing an evening. And now that the prelimi- 
 naries of peace are settled, allow me to sign the treaty 
 for both." 
 
 And the Prince swallowed the tart with the best grace 
 imaginable. 
 
 "It is delicious," said he. 
 
 "I perceive you are a connoisseur," replied the young 
 man. 
 
 Colonel Geraldine likewise did honor to the pastry; and 
 every one in that bar having now either accepted or re- 
 fused his delicacies, the young man with the cream tarts 
 led the way to another and similar establishment. The 
 two commissionaires, who seemed to have grown accus- 
 tomed to their absurd employment, followed immediately 
 after; and the Prince and the Colonel brought up the 
 rear, arm in arm, and smiling to each other as they went. 
 In this order the company visited two other taverns, where 
 scenes were enacted of a like nature to that already de- 
 scribed — some refusing, some accepting, the favors of 
 this vagabond hospitality, and the young man himself 
 eating each rejected tart. 
 
 On leaving the third saloon the young man counted his 
 store. There were but nine remaining, three in one tray 
 and six in the other. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said he, addressing himself to his two 
 new followers, "I am unwilling to delay your supper. I 
 am positively sure you must be hungry. . I feel that I owe 
 you a special consideration. And on this great day for 
 me, when I am closing a career of folly by my most con- 
 spicuously silly action, I wish to behave handsomely to all 
 who give me countenance. Gentlemen, you shall wait no 
 longer. Although my constitution is shattered by previous 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 7 
 
 excesses, at the risk of my life I liquidate the suspensory 
 condition." 
 
 With these words he crushed the nine remaining tarts 
 into his mouth, and swallowed them at a single movement 
 each. Then, turning to the commissionaires, he gave 
 them a couple of sovereigns. 
 
 "I have to thank you," said he, "for your extraordinary 
 patience." 
 
 And he dismissed them with a bow apiece. For some 
 seconds he stood looking at the purse from which he had 
 just paid his assistants, then, with a laugh, he tossed it 
 into the middle of the street, and signified his readiness 
 for supper. 
 
 In a small French restaurant in Soho, which had enjoyed 
 an exaggerated reputation for some little while, but had 
 already begun to be forgotten, and in a private room up 
 two pair of stairs, the three companions made a very ele- 
 gant supper, and drank three or four bottles of champagne, 
 talking the while upon indifferent subjects. The young 
 man was fluent and gay, but he laughed louder than was 
 natural in a person of polite breeding; his hands trembled 
 violently, and his voice took sudden and surprising inflec- 
 tions, which seemed to be independent of his will. The 
 dessert had been cleared away, and all three had lighted 
 their cigars, when the Prince addressed him in these 
 words: 
 
 "You will, I am sure, pardon my curiosity. What I 
 have seen of you has greatly pleased but even more puzzled 
 me. And though I should be loth to seem indiscreet, I 
 must tell you that my friend and I are persons very well 
 worthy to be entrusted with a secret. We have many of 
 our own, which we are continually revealing to improper 
 ears. And if, as I suppose, your story is a silly one, you 
 need have no delicacy with us, who are two of the silliest 
 
8 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 men in England. My name is Godall, Theophilus Godall; 
 my friend is Major Alfred Hammersmith— or at least, 
 such is the name by which he chooses to be known. We 
 pass our lives entirely in the search for extravagant ad- 
 ventures; and there is no extravagance with which we 
 are not capable of sympathy." 
 
 "I like you, Mr. Godall," returned the young man; 
 "you inspire me with a natural confidence; and I have 
 not the slightest objection to your friend, the Major; 
 whom I take to be a nobleman in masquerade. At least, 
 I am sure he is no soldier." 
 
 The Colonel smiled at this compliment to the perfection 
 of his art; and the young man went on in a more animated 
 manner. 
 
 "There is every reason why I should not tell you my 
 story. Perhaps that is just the reason why I am going to 
 do so. At least, you seem so well prepared to hear a tale 
 of silliness that I cannot find it in my heart to disappoint 
 you. My name, in spite of your example, I shall keep to 
 myself. My age is not essential to the narrative. I am 
 descended from my ancestors by ordinary generation, and 
 from them I inherited the very eligible human tenement 
 which I still occupy and a fortune of three hundred pounds 
 a year. I suppose they also handed on to me a hare-brain 
 humor, which it has been my chief delight to indulge. I 
 received a good education. I can play the violin nearly 
 well enough to earn money in the orchestra of a penny 
 gaff, but not quite. The same remark applies to the flute 
 and the French horn. I learned enough of whist to lose 
 about a hundred a year at that scientific game. My ac- 
 quaintance with French was sufficient to enable me to 
 squander money in Paris with almost the same facility as 
 in London. In short, I am a person full of manly accom- 
 plishments. I have had every sort of adventure, including 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 9 
 
 a duel about nothing. Only two months ago I met a 
 young lady exactly suited to my taste in mind and body; 
 I found my heart melt; I saw that I had come upon my 
 fate at last, and was in the way to fall in love. But when 
 I came to reckon up what remained to me of my capital, 
 I found it amounted to something less than four hundred 
 pounds! I ask you fairly — can a man who respects him- 
 self fall in love on four hundred pounds? I concluded, 
 certainly not; left the presence of my charmer, and 
 slightly accelerating my usual rate of expenditure, came 
 this morning to my last eighty pounds. This I divided 
 into two equal parts; forty I reserved for a particular 
 purpose; the remaining forty I was to dissipate before 
 the night. I have passed a very entertaining day, and 
 played many farces besides that of the cream tarts which 
 procured me the advantage of your acquaintance; for I 
 was determined, as I told you, to bring a foolish career 
 to a still more foolish conclusion; and when you saw me 
 throw my purse into the street, the forty pounds were at 
 an end. Now you know me as well as I know myself: a 
 fool but consistent in his folly; and, as I will ask you to 
 believe, neither a whimperer nor a coward." 
 
 From the whole tone of the young man's statement it 
 was plain that he harbored very bitter and contemptuous 
 thoughts about himself. His auditors were led to imagine 
 that his love affair was nearer his heart than he admitted, 
 and that he had a design on his own life. The farce of 
 the cream tarts began to have very much the air of a 
 tragedy in disguise. 
 
 "Why, is this not odd," broke out Geraldine, giving a 
 look to Prince Florizel, ' 'that [we three fellows should 
 have met by the merest accident in so large a wilderness 
 as London, and should be so nearly in the same condition?" 
 
 ' 'How?" cried the young man. ' 'Are you, too, ruined? 
 
10 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 Is this supper a folly like my cream tarts? Has the devil 
 brought three of his own together for a last carouse?" 
 
 "The devil, depend upon it, can sometimes do a very 
 gentlemanly thing," returned Prince Florizel; "and I am 
 so much touched by this coincidence, that, although we 
 are not entirely in the same case, I am going t'o put an 
 end to the disparity. Let your heroic treatment of the 
 last cream tarts be my example." 
 
 So saying, the Prince drew out his purse and took from 
 it a small bundle of bank-notes. 
 
 "You see, I was a week or so behind you, but I mean 
 to catch you up and come neck and neck into the winning- 
 post," he continued. "This," laying one of the notes 
 upon the table, will suffice for the bill. As for the 
 rest " 
 
 He tossed them into the fire, and they went up the 
 chimney in a single blaze. 
 
 The young man tried to catch his arm, but as the table 
 was between them his interference came too late. 
 
 "Unhappy man, ' ' he cried, ' 'you should not have burned 
 them all ! You should have kept forty pounds. ' ' 
 
 "Forty pounds!" repeated the Prince. "Why, in 
 heaven's name, forty pounds?" 
 
 "Why not eighty?" cried the Colonel; "for to my cer- 
 tain knowledge there must have been a hundred in the 
 bundle." 
 
 "It was only forty pounds he needed," said the young 
 man gloomily. "But without them there is no admission. 
 The rule is strict. Forty pounds for each. Accursed 
 life, where a man cannot even die without money!" 
 
 The Prince and the Colonel exchanged glances. 
 
 "Explain yourself," said the latter. "I have still a 
 pocket-book tolerably well lined, and I need not say how 
 readily I would share my wealth with Godall. But I must 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 11 
 
 know to what end; you must certainly tell us what you 
 mean." 
 
 The young man seemed to awaken; he looked uneasily 
 from one to the other, and his face flushed deeply. 
 
 "You are not fooling me?" he asked. "You are indeed 
 ruined men like me?" 
 
 "Indeed, I am for my part," replied the Colonel. 
 
 "And for mine, " said the Prince, "I have given you 
 proof. Who but a ruined man would throw his notes into 
 the fire? The action speaks for itself . " 
 
 "A ruined man — yes," returned the other suspiciously, 
 "or else a millionaire." 
 
 "Enough, sir," said the Prince; "I have said so, and I 
 am not accustomed to have my word remain in doubt." 
 
 "Ruined?" said the young man. "Are you ruined, 
 like me? Are you, after a life of indulgence, come to 
 such a pass that you can only indulge yourself in one 
 thing more? Are you" — he kept lowering his voice as 
 he went on — "are you going to give yourselves that last 
 indulgence! Are you going to avoid the consequences of 
 your folly by the one infallible and easy path? Are you 
 going to give the slip to the sheriff's officers of conscience 
 by the one open door?" 
 
 Suddenly he broke off and attempted to laugh. 
 
 "Here is your health!" he cried, emptying his glass, 
 "and good night to you, my merry ruined men." 
 
 Colonel Geraldine caught him , by the arm as he was 
 about to rise. 
 
 "You lack confidence in us," he said, "and you are 
 wrong. To all your questions I make answer in the 
 affirmative. But I am not so timid, and can speak the 
 Queen's English plainly. We, too, like yourself, have 
 had enough of life, and are determined to die. Sooner 
 or later, alone or together , we meant to seek out death 
 
12 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 and beard him where he lies ready. Since we have met 
 you, and your case is more pressing, let it be to-night — 
 and at once — and, if you will, all three together. Such a 
 penniless trio," he cried, "should go arm in arm into the 
 halls of Pluto, and give each other some countenance 
 among the shades!" 
 
 Geraldine had hit exactly on the manners and intona- 
 tions that became the part he was playing. The Prince 
 himself was disturbed, and looked over at his confidant 
 with a shade of doubt. As for the young man, the flush 
 came back darkly into his cheek, and his eyes threw out a 
 spark of light. 
 
 "You are the men for me!" he cried, with an almost 
 terrible gayety. "Shake hands upon the bargain!" (his 
 hand was cold and wet). "You little know in what a 
 company you will begin the march! You little know in 
 what a happy moment for yourselves you partook of my 
 cream tarts! I am only a unit, but I am a unit in an 
 army. I know Death's private door. I am one of his 
 familiars, and can show you into eternity without cere- 
 mony and yet without scandal." 
 
 They called upon him eagerly to explain his meaning. 
 
 "Can you muster eighty pounds between you?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 Geraldine ostentatiously consulted his pocket-book, and 
 replied in the affirmative. 
 
 "Fortunate beings!" cried the young man. "Forty 
 pounds is the entry money of the Suicide Club." 
 
 "The Suicide Club," said the Prince, "why, what the 
 devil is that?" 
 
 "Listen," said the young man; "this is the age of 
 conveniences, and I have to tell you of the last perfection 
 of the sort. We have affairs in different places; and 
 hence railways were invented. Railways separated us 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 13 
 
 infallibly from our friends; and so telegraphs were made 
 that we might communicate speedily at great distances. 
 Even in' hotels we have lifts to spare us a climb of some 
 hundred steps. Now, we know that life is only a stage 
 to play "the fool upon as long as the part amuses us. There 
 was one more convenience lacking to modern comfort; a 
 decent, easy way to quit that stage; the back stairs to 
 liberty; or, as I said this moment. Death's private door. 
 This, my two fellow-rebels, is supplied by the Suicide 
 Club. Do not suppose that you and I are alone, or even 
 exceptional, in the highly reasonable desire that we pro- 
 fess. A large number of our fellow-men, who have grown 
 heartily sick of the performance in which they are ex- 
 pected to join daily and all their lives long, are only kept 
 from flight by one or two considerations. Some have 
 families who would be shocked, or even blamed, if the 
 matter became public; others have a weakness at heart 
 and recoil from the circumstances of death. That is, to 
 some extent, my own experience. I cannot put a pistol 
 to my head and draw the trigger; for something stronger 
 than myself withholds the act; and although I loathe life, 
 I have not strength enough in my body to take hold of 
 death and be done with it. For such as I, and for all who 
 desire to be out of the coil without posthumous scandal, 
 the Suicide Club has been inaugurated. How this has 
 been managed, what is its history, or what may be its 
 ramifications in other lands, I am myself uninformed; and 
 what I know of its constitution, I am not at liberty to 
 communicate to you. To this extent, however, I am at 
 your service. If you are truly tired of life, I will intro- 
 duce you to-night to a meeting; and if not to-night, at 
 least some time within the week, you will be easily re- 
 lieved of your existences. It is now (consulting his watch) 
 eleven; by half-past, at latest, we must leave this place; 
 
14 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 so that you have half an hour before you to consider my 
 proposal. It is more serious than a cream tart," he 
 added, with a smile; "and I suspect more palatable." 
 
 "More serious, certainly," returned Colonel Geraldine; 
 "and as it is so much more so, will you allow me five 
 minutee' speech in private with my friend, Mr. Godall?" 
 
 "It is only fair," answered the young man. "If you 
 will permit, I will retire." 
 
 "You will be very obliging," said the Colonel. 
 
 As soon as the two were alone — "What," said Prince 
 Florizel, "is the use of this confabulation, Geraldine? I 
 see you are flurried, whereas my mind is very tranquilly 
 made up. I will see the end of this." 
 
 "Your Highness," said the Colonel, turning pale; "let 
 me ask you to consider the importance of your life, not 
 only to your friends, but to the public interest. 'If not 
 to-night," said this madman; but supposing that to-night 
 some irreparable disaster were to overtake your Highness' s 
 person, what, let me ask you, what would be my despair, 
 and what the concern and disaster of a great nation?" 
 
 "I will see the end of this, " repeated the Prince in his 
 most deliberate tones; "and have the kindness, Colonel 
 Geraldine, to remember and respect your word of honor 
 as a gentleman. Under no circumstances, recollect, nor 
 without my special authority, are you to betray the in- 
 cognito under which I choose to go abroad. These were 
 my commands, which I now reiterate. And now," he 
 added, "let me ask you to call for the bill." 
 
 Colonel Geraldine bowed in submission; but he had a 
 very white face as he summoned the young man of the 
 cream tarts, and issued his directions to the waiter. The 
 Prince preserved his undisturbed demeanor, and described 
 a Palais Royal farce to the young suicide with great humor 
 and gusto. He avoided the Colonel's appealing looks 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 15 
 
 without ostentation, and selected another cneroot with 
 more than usual care. Indeed, he was now the only man 
 of the party who kept any command over his nerves. 
 
 The bill was discharged, the Prince giving the whole 
 change of the note to the astonished waiter; and the three 
 drove off in a four wheeler. They were not long upon the 
 way before the cab stopped at the entrance to a rather 
 dark court. Here all descended. 
 
 After Geraldine had paid the fare, the young man 
 turned, and addressed Prince Florizel as follows: 
 
 ' 'It is still time, Mr. Godall, to make good your escape 
 into thralldom. And for you too, Major Hammersmith. 
 Reflect well before you take another step; and if your 
 hearts say no — here are the cross-roads." 
 
 "Lead on, sir," said the Prince. "I am not the man 
 to go back from a thing once said." 
 
 "Your coolness does me good," replied their guide. 
 ' 'I have never seen anyone so unmoved at this conjunc- 
 ture; and yet you are not the first whom I have escorted 
 to this door. More than one of my friends has preceded 
 me, where I knew I must shortly follow. But this is of 
 no interest to you. Wait me here for only a few mo- 
 ments; I shall return as soon as I have arranged the 
 preliminaries of your introduction." 
 
 And with that the young man, waving his hand to his 
 companions, turned into the court, entered a doorway 
 and disappeared. 
 
 "Of all our follies," said Colonel Geraldine in a low 
 voice, "this is the wildest and most dangerous." 
 
 "I perfectly believe so," returned the Prince. 
 
 "We have still," pursued the Colonel, "a moment to 
 ourselves. Let me beseech your Highness to profit by the 
 opportunity and retire. The consequences of this step 
 are so dark, and may be so grave, that I feel myself jus- 
 
16 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 tified in pushing a little farther than usual the liberty 
 which your Highness is so condescending as to allow me 
 in private." 
 
 "Am I to understand that Colonel Geraldine is afraid?" 
 asked his Highness, taking his cheroot from his lips, and 
 looking keenly into the other's face. 
 
 "My fear is certainly not personal," replied the 
 other proudly; "of that your Highness may rest well 
 assured." 
 
 "I had supposed as much," returned the Prince, with 
 undisturbed good humor; "but I was unwilling to remind 
 you of the difference in our stations. No more — no 
 more," he added, seeing Geraldine about to apologize, 
 "you stand excused." 
 
 And he smoked placidly, leaning against a railing, until 
 the young man returned. 
 
 "Well," he asked, "has our reception been arranged?" 
 
 "Follow me," was the reply. "The President will see 
 you in the cabinet. And let me warn you to be frank in 
 your answers. I have stood your guarantee; but the club 
 requires a searching inquiry before admission; for the 
 indiscretion of a single member would lead to the dis- 
 persion of the whole society forever." 
 
 The Prince and Geraldine put their heads together for 
 a moment. "Bear me out in this," said the one; and' 
 "bear me out in that," said the other; and by boldly 
 taking up the characters of men with whom both were 
 acquainted, they had come to an agreement in a twink- 
 ling, and were ready to follow their guide into the 
 President's cabinet. 
 
 There were no formidable obstacles to pass. The outer 
 door stood open; the door of the cabinet was ajar; and 
 there, in a small but very high apartment, the young man 
 left them once more. 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 17 
 
 "He will be here immediately," he said with a nod, as 
 he disappeared. 
 
 Voices were audible in the cabinet through the folding- 
 doors which formed one end; and now and then the noise 
 of a champagne cork, followed by a burst of laughter, 
 intervened among the sounds of conversation. A single 
 tall window looked out upon the river and the embank- 
 ment; and by the disposition of the lights they judged 
 themselves not far from Charing Cross station. The fur- 
 niture was scanty, and the coverings worn to the thread; 
 and there was nothing movable except a hand-bell in the 
 centre of a round table, and the hats and coats of a 
 considerable party hung round the wall on pegs. 
 
 "What sort of a den is this?" said Geraldine. 
 
 "That is what I have come to see," replied the Prince. 
 "If they keep live devils on the premises, the thing may 
 grow amusing." 
 
 Just then the folding door was opened no more than 
 was necessary for the passage of a human body; and there 
 entered at the same moment a louder buzz of talk, and 
 the redoubtable President of the Suicide Club. The 
 President was a man of fifty or upwards; large and ram- 
 bling in his gait, with shaggy side-whiskers, a bald top 
 to his head, and a veiled gray eye, which now and then 
 emitted a twinkle. His mouth, which embraced a large 
 cigar, he kept continually screwing round and round and 
 from side to side, as he looked sagaciously and coldly at 
 the strangers. He was dressed in light tweeds, with his 
 neck very open, in a striped shirt collar; and carried a 
 minute book under one arm. 
 
 "Good evening," said he, after he had closed the door 
 behind him. ' 'I am told you wish to speak with me. ' ' 
 
 "We have a desire, sir, to join the Suicide Club," 
 replied the Colonel. 
 
18 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 The President rolled his cigar about in his mouth. 
 
 "What is that?" he said abruptly. 
 
 "Pardon me," returned the Colonel, "but I believe you 
 are the person best qualified to give us information on 
 that point." 
 
 "I?" cried the President. "A Suicide Club? Come, 
 come! this is a frolic for All Fools' Day. I can make 
 allowances for gentlemen who get merry in their liquor; 
 but let there be an end to this." 
 
 "Call your Club what you will," said the Colonel, "you 
 have some company behind these doors, and we insist on 
 joining it." 
 
 "Sir," returned the President, curtly, "you have made 
 a mistake. This is a private house, and you must leave it 
 instantly. ' ' 
 
 The Prince had remained quietly in his seat throughout 
 this little colloquy; but now, when the Colonel looked over 
 to him, as much as to say, "Take your answer and come 
 away, for God's sake!" he drew his cheroot from his 
 mouth, and spoke: 
 
 "I have come here," said he, "upon the invitation of a 
 friend of yours. He has doubtless informed you of my 
 intention in thus intruding on your party. Let me remind 
 you that a person in my circumstances has exceedingly 
 little to bind him, and is not at all likely to tolerate much 
 rudeness. I am a very quiet man, as a usual thing; but, 
 my dear sir, you are either going to oblige me in the 
 little matter of which you are aware, or you shall very 
 bitterly repent that you ever admitted me to your ante- 
 chamber." 
 
 The President laughed aloud. 
 
 "That is the way to speak," said he. "You are a man 
 who is a man. You know the way to my heart, and can 
 do what you like with me. Will you," he continued. 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 19 
 
 addressing Geraldine, "will you step aside for a few 
 minutes? I shall finish first with your companion, and 
 some of the club's formalities require to be fulfilled in 
 private." 
 
 With these words he opened the door of a small closet, 
 into which he shut the Colonel. 
 
 "I believe in you," he said to Florizel, as soon as they 
 were alone; "butjare you sure of your friend?" 
 
 "Not so sure as I am of myself, though he has more 
 cogent reasons," answered Florizel, "but sure enough to 
 bring him here without alarm. He has had enough to 
 cure the most tenacious mail of life. He was cashiered 
 the other day for cheating at cards." 
 
 "A good reason, I daresay," replied the President; "at 
 least, we have another in the same case, and I feel sure 
 of him. Have you also been in the Service, may I ask?" 
 
 "I have," was the reply; "but I was too lazy, I left it 
 early." 
 
 "What is your reason for being tired of life?" pursued 
 the President. 
 
 "The same, as near as I can make out," answered the 
 Prince; "unadulterated laziness." 
 
 The President started. "D n it," said he, "you 
 
 must have something better than that." 
 
 "I have no more money," added Florizel. "That is 
 also a vexation, without doubt. It brings my sense of 
 idleness to an acute point." 
 
 The President rolled his cigar round in his mouth for 
 some seconds, directing his gaze straight into the eyes of 
 this unusual neophyte; but the Prince supported his 
 scrutiny with unabashed good temper. 
 
 "If I had not a deal of experience," said the President 
 at last, "I should turn you off. But I know the world; 
 and this much any way, that the most frivolous excuses 
 
20 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 for a suicide are often the toughest to stand by. And 
 when I downright like a man, as I do you, sir, I would 
 rather strain the regulation than deny him." 
 
 The Prince and the Colonel, one after the other, were 
 subjected to a long and particular interrogatory — the 
 Prince alone; but Geraldine in the presence of the Prince, 
 So that the President might observe the countenance of 
 the one while the other was being warmly cross-examined. 
 The result was satisfactory; and the President, after hav- 
 ing booked a few details of each case, produced a form of 
 oath to be accepted. Nothing could be conceived more 
 passive than the obedience promised, or more stringent 
 than the terms by which the juror bound himself. The 
 man who forfeited a pledge so awful could scarcely have 
 a rag of honor or any of the consolations of religion left 
 to him. Florizel signed the document, but not without a 
 shudder; the Colonel followed his example with an air of 
 great depression. Then the President received the entry 
 money; and without more ado, introduced the two friends 
 into the smoking-room of the Suicide Club. 
 
 The smoking-room of the Suicide Club was the same 
 height as the cabinet into which it opened, but much 
 larger, and papered from top to bottom with an imitation 
 of oak wainscot. A large and cheerful fire and a number 
 of gasjets illuminated the company. The Prince and his 
 follower made the number up to eighteen. Most of the 
 party were smoking, and drinking champagne; a fever- 
 ish hilarity reigned, with sudden and rather ghastly 
 pauses. 
 
 "Is this a full meeting?" asked the Prince. 
 
 "Middling," said the President. "By the way," he 
 added, "if you have any money, it is usual to offer some 
 champagne. It keeps up a good spirit, and is one of my 
 own little perquisites." 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 21 
 
 "Hammersmith," said Florizel, "I may leave the 
 champagne to you. ' ' 
 
 And with that he turned away and began to go round 
 among the guests. Accustomed to play the host in the 
 highest circles, he charmed and dominated all whom he 
 approached; there was something at once winning and 
 authoritative in his address; and his extraordinary cool- 
 ness gave him yet another distinction in this half mani- 
 acal society. As he went from one to another he kept 
 both his eyes and ears open, and soon began to gain a 
 general idea of the people among whom he found himself. 
 As in all other places of resort, one type predominated: 
 people in the prime of youth, with every show of intelli- 
 gence and sensibility in their appearance, but with little 
 promise of strength or the quality that makes success. 
 Few were much above thirty, and not a few were still in 
 their teens. They stood, leaning on tables and shifting 
 on their feet; sometimes they smoked extraordinarily fast, 
 and sometimes they let their cigat's go out; some talked 
 well, but the conversation of others was plainly the result 
 of nervous tension, and was equally without wit or pur- 
 port. As each new bottle of champagne was opened, 
 there was a manifest improvement in gaiety. Only two 
 were seated — one in a chair in the recess of the window, 
 with his head hanging and his hands plunged deep into 
 his trouser pockets, pale, visibly moist with perspiration, 
 saying never a word, a very wreck of soul and body; the 
 other sat on the divan close by the chimney, and attracted 
 notice by a trenchant dissimilarity from all the rest. He 
 was probably upwards of forty, but he looked fully ten 
 years older; and Florizel thought he had never seen a man 
 more naturally hideous, nor one more ravaged by disease 
 and ruinous excitements. He was no more than skin and 
 bone, was partly paralyzed, and wore spectacles of such 
 
22 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 unusual power, that his eyes appeared through the glasses 
 greatly magnified and distorted in shape. Except the 
 Prince and the President, he was the only person in the 
 room who preserved the composure of ordinary life. 
 
 There was little decency among the members of the 
 club. Some boasted of the disgraceful actions, the con- 
 sequences of which had reduced them to seek refuge in 
 death; and the others listened without disapproval. There 
 was a tacit understanding against moral judgments; and 
 whoever passed the club doors enjoyed already some of 
 the immunities of the tomb. They drank to each other's 
 memories, and to those of notable suicides in the past. 
 They compared and developed their different views of 
 death — some declaring that it was no more than blackness 
 and cessation; others full of a hope that that very night 
 they should be scaling the stars and commercing with the 
 mighty dead. 
 
 "To the eternal memory of Baron Trenck, the type 
 of suicides!" cried one. "He went out of a small cell 
 into a smaller, that he might come forth again to free- 
 dom." 
 
 "For my part," said a second, "I wish no more than a 
 bandage for my eyes and cotton for my ears. Only they 
 have no cotton thick enough in this world." 
 
 A third was for reading the mysteries of life in a future 
 state; and a fourth professed that he would never have 
 joined the club, if he had not been induced to believe in 
 Mr. Darwin. 
 
 "I could not bear," said this remarkable suicide, "to 
 be descended from an ape. ' ' 
 
 Altogether, the Prince was disappointed by the bearing 
 and conversation of the members. 
 
 "It does not seem to me," he thought, "a matter for so 
 much disturbance. If a man has made up his mind to 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 23 
 
 kill himself, let him do it, in God's name, like a gentle- 
 man. This flutter and big talk is out of place." 
 
 In the meanwhile Colonel Geraldine was a prey to the 
 blackest apprehensions; the club and its rules were still a 
 mystery, and he looked round the room for some one who 
 should be able to set his mind at rest. In this survey his 
 eye lighted on the paralytic person with the strong spec- 
 tacles; and seeing him so exceedingly tranquil, he besought 
 the President, who was going in and out of the room under 
 a pressure of business, to present him to the gentleman on 
 the divan. 
 
 The functionary explained the Heedlessness of all such 
 formalities within the club, but nevertheless presented 
 Mr. Hammersmith to Mr. Malthus. 
 
 Mr. Malthus looked at the Colonel curiously, and then 
 requested him to take a seat upon his right. 
 
 "You are a newcomer," he said, "and wish informa- 
 tion? You have come to the proper source. It is two 
 years since I first visited this charming club." 
 
 The Colonel breathed again. If Mr. Malthus had fre- 
 quented the place for two years there could be little 
 danger for the Prince in a single evening. But Geraldine 
 was none the less astonished, and began to suspect a 
 mystification. 
 
 ' 'What ! ' ' cried he, ' 'two years ! I thought — ^but indeed ' 
 I see I have been made the subject of a pleasantry. ' ' 
 
 "By no means," replied Mr. Malthus mildly. "My 
 case is peculiar. I am not, properly speaking, a suicide 
 at all; but, as it were, an honorary member. I rarely 
 visit the club twice in two months. My infirmity and 
 the kindness of the President have procured me these little 
 immunities, for which besides I pay at an advanced rate. 
 Even as it is my luck has been extraordinary." 
 
 "I am afraid," said the Colonel, "that I must ask you 
 
24 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 to be more explicit. You must remember that I am still 
 most imperfectly acquainted with the rules of the club." 
 
 "An ordinary member who comes here in search of 
 death like yourself ," replied the paralytic, "returns every 
 evening until fortune favors him. He can, even if he is 
 penniless, get board and lodging from the President — ^very 
 fair, I believe, and clean, although, of course, not luxuri- 
 ous; that could hardly be, considering the exiguity (if I 
 may so express myself) of the subscription. And then the 
 President's company is a delicacy in itself." 
 
 "Indeed!" cried Geraldine, "he had not greatly pre- 
 possessed me." 
 
 "Ah!" said Mr. Malthus, "you do not know the man: 
 the drollest fellow! What stories! What cynicism! He 
 knows life to admiration and, between ourselves, is prob- 
 ably the most corrupt rogue in Christendom." 
 
 "And he also," asked the Colonel, "is a permanency — 
 like yourself, if I may say so without offence?" 
 
 "Indeed, he is a permanency in a very different sense 
 from me, ' ' replied Mr. Malthus. ' 'I have been graciously 
 spared, but I must go at last. Now he never plays. He 
 shuffles and deals for the club, and makes the necessary 
 arrangements. That man, my dear Mr. Hammersmith, is 
 the very soul of ingenuity. For three years he has pur- 
 sued in London his useful and, I think I may add, his 
 artistic calling; and not so much as a whisper of suspicion 
 has been once aroused. I believe him myself to be in- 
 spired. You doubtless remember the celebrated case, 
 six months ago, of the gentleman who was accidentally 
 poisoned in a chemist's shop? That was one of the least 
 rich, one of the least racy, of his notions; but then, how 
 simple! and how safe!" 
 
 ' 'You astound me, ' ' said the Colonel. ' 'Was that unfor- 
 tunate gentleman one of the " He was about to say 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 25 
 
 "victims;" but bethinking himself in time, he substi- 
 tuted — "members of the club?" 
 
 In the same flash of thought, it occurred to him that 
 Mr. Malthus himself had not at all spoken in the tone of 
 one who is in love with death; and he added hurriedly: 
 
 "But I perceive I am still in the dark. You speak of 
 shuffling and dealing; pray for what end? And since you 
 seem rather unwilling to die than otherwise, I must own 
 that I cannot conceive what brings you here at all." 
 
 "You say truly that you are in the dark," replied Mr. 
 Malthus with more animation. "Why, my dear sir, this 
 club is the temple of intoxication. If my enfeebled health 
 could support the excitement more often, you may depend 
 upon it I should be more often here. It requires all the 
 sense of duty engendered by a long habit of ill-health and 
 careful regimen, to keep me from excess in this, which 
 is, I may say, my last dissipation. I have tried them 
 all, sir," he went on, laying his hand on Geraldine's arm, 
 "all without exception, and I declare to you, upon my 
 honor, there is not one of them that has not been grossly 
 and untruthfully overrated. People trifle with love. Now, 
 I deny that love is a strong passion. Fear is the strong 
 passion; it is with fear that you must trifle, if you wish 
 to taste the intense joys of living. Envy me — envy me, 
 sir," he added with a chuckle, "I am a coward!" 
 
 Geraldine could scarcely repress a movement of repul- 
 sion for this deplorable wretch; but he commanded him- 
 self with an effort, and continued his inquiries. 
 
 "How, sir," he asked, "is the excitement so artfully 
 prolonged? and where is there any element of uncer- 
 tainty?" 
 
 "I must tell you how the victim for every evening is 
 selected," returned Mr. Malthus; "and not only the vic- 
 tim, but another member, who is to be the instrument in 
 
26 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 the club's hands, and death's high priest for that occa- 
 sion." 
 
 "Good God!" said the Colonel, "do they then kill each 
 
 other?" 
 
 "The trouble of suicide is removed in that way," 
 returned Malthus with a nod. 
 
 "Merciful Heavens!" ejaculated the Colonel," and may 
 you— may I— may the— my friend, I mean — may any of 
 us be pitched upon this evening as the slayer of another 
 man's body and immortal spirit? Can such things be 
 possible among men born of women? Oh! infamy of 
 infamies!" 
 
 He was about to rise in his horror, when he caught the 
 Prince's eye. It was fixed upon him from across the room 
 with a frowning and angry stare. And in a moment 
 Geraldine recovered his composure. 
 
 "After all," he added, "why not? And since you say 
 the game is interesting, vogvs la galere — I follow the 
 club!" 
 
 Mr. Malthus had keenly enjoyed the Colonel's amaze- 
 ment and disgust. He had the vanity of wickedness; and 
 it pleased him to see another man give way to a generous 
 movement, while he felt himself, in his entire corruption, 
 superior to such emotions. 
 
 "You now, after your first moment of surprise," said 
 he, "are in a position to appreciate the delights of our 
 society. You can see how it combines the excitement of 
 a gaming-table, a duel, and a Roman amphitheatre. The 
 Pagans did well enough; I cordially admire the refinement 
 of their minds; but it has been reserved for a Christian 
 country to attain this extreme, this quintessence, this 
 absolute of poignancy. You will understand how vapid 
 are all amusements to a man who has acquired a taste for 
 this one. The game we play," he continued, "is one of 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 27 
 
 extreme simplicity. A full pack — ^but I perceive you are 
 about to see the thing in progress. Will you lend me the 
 help of your arm? I am unfortunately paralyzed." 
 
 Indeed, just as Mr. Malthus was beginning his descrip- 
 tion, another pair of folding-doors was thrown open, and 
 the whole club began to pass, not without some hurry, 
 into the adjoining room. It was similar in every respect 
 to the one from which it was entered, but somewhat dif- 
 ferently furnished. The centre was occupied by a long 
 green table, at which the President sat shuffling a pack of 
 cards with great particularity. Even with the stick and 
 the Colonel's arm, Mr. Malthus walked with so much 
 difficulty that everyone was seated before this pair and 
 the Prince, who had waited for them, entered the apart- 
 ment; and, in consequence, the three took seats close 
 together at the lower end of the board. 
 
 "It is a pack of fifty- two," whispered Mr. Malthus. 
 "Watch for the ace of spades, which is the sign of death, 
 and the ace of clubs, which designates the official of the 
 night. Happy, happy young men!" he added. "You 
 have good eyes, and can follow the game. Alas! I cannot 
 tell an ace from a deuce across the table. ' ' 
 
 And he proceeded to equip himself with a second pair 
 of spectacles. 
 
 "I must at least watch the faces," he explained. 
 
 The Colonel rapidly informed his friend of all that he 
 had learned from the honorary member, and of the hor- 
 rible alternative that lay before them. The Prince was 
 conscious of a deadly chill and a contraction about his 
 heart; he swallowed with difficulty, and looked from side 
 to side like a man in a maze. 
 
 "One bold stroke," whispered the Colonel, "and we 
 may still escape." 
 
 But the suggestion recalled the Prince's spirits. 
 
28 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Silence!" said he. "Let me see that you can play 
 like a gentleman for any stake, however serious." 
 
 And he looked about him, once more to all appearance 
 at his ease, although his heart beat thickly, and he was 
 conscious of an unpleasant heat in his bosom. The mem- 
 bers were all very quiet and intent; everyone was pale, 
 but none so pale as Mr. Malthus. His eyes protruded; his 
 head kept nodding involuntarily upon his spine; his hands 
 found their way, one after the other, to his mouth, where 
 they made clutches at his tremulous and ashen lips. It 
 was plain that the honorary member enjoyed his member- 
 ship on very startling terms. 
 
 "Attention, gentlemen!" said the President. 
 
 And he began slowly dealing the cards about the table 
 in the reverse direction, pausing until each man had 
 shown his card. Nearly everyone hesitated ; and some- 
 times you would see a player's fingers stumble more than 
 once before he could turn over the momentous slip of 
 pasteboard. As the Prince's turn drew nearer, he was 
 conscious of a growing and almost suffocating excitement; 
 but he had somewhat of the gambler's nature, and recog- 
 nized almost with astonishment that there was a degree of 
 pleasure in his sensations. The nine of clubs fell to his 
 lot; the three of spades was dealt to Geraldine; and the 
 queen of hearts to Mr. Malthus, who was unable to sup- 
 press a sob of relief. The young man of the cream tarts 
 almost immediately afterwards turned over the ace of 
 clubs, and remained frozen with horror, the card still 
 resting on his finger; he had not come there to kill, but 
 to be killed; and the Prince, in his generous sympathy 
 with his position, almost forgot the peril that still hung 
 over himself and his friend. 
 
 The deal was coming round again, and still Death's 
 card had not come out. The players held their respira- 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 29 
 
 tion, and only breathed by gasps. The Prince received 
 another club; Geraldine had a diamond; but when Mr. 
 Malthus turned up his card a horrible noise, like that of 
 something breaking, issued from his mouth; and he rose 
 from his seat and sat down again, with no sign of his 
 paralysis. It was the ace of spades. The honorary 
 member had trifled once too often with his terrors. 
 
 Conversation broke out again almost at once. The 
 players relaxed their rigid attitudes, and began to rise 
 from the table and stroll back by twos and threes into the 
 smoking-room. The President stretched his arms and 
 yawned, like a man who had finished his day's work. 
 But Mr. Malthus sat in his place, with his head in his 
 hands, and his hands upon the table, drunk and motionless 
 — a thing stricken down. 
 
 The Prince and Geraldine made their escape at once. 
 In the cold night air their horror of what they had wit- 
 nessed was redoubled. 
 
 "Alas!" cried the Prince, "to be bound by an oath in 
 such a matter! to allow this wholesale trade in murder to 
 be continued with profit and impunity! If I but dared to 
 forfeit my pledge!" 
 
 "That is impossible for your Highness," replied the 
 Colonel, whose honor is the honor of Bohemia. "But I 
 dare, and may with propriety, forfeit mine." 
 
 "Geraldine," said the Prince, "if your honor suffers in 
 any of the adventures into which you follow me, not only 
 will I never pardon you, but — what I believe will much 
 more sensibly affect you — I should never forgive myself." 
 
 "I receive your Highness's commands," replied the 
 Colonel. "Shall we go from this accursed spot?" 
 
 "Yes," said the Prince. "Call acab in Heaven's name, 
 and let me try to forget in slumber the memory of this 
 night's disgrace." 
 
30 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 But it was notable that he carefully read the name of 
 the court before he left it. 
 
 The next morning, as soon as the Prince was stirring. 
 Colonel Geraldine brought him a daily newspaper, with 
 the following paragraph marked: 
 
 "Melancholy Accident. — This morning, about two 
 o'clock, Mf . Bartholomew Malthus, of 16 Chepstow Place, 
 Westbourne Grove, on his way home from a party at a 
 friend's house, fell over the upper parapet in Trafalgar 
 Square, fracturing his skull and breaking a leg and an 
 arm. Death was instantaneous. Mr. Malthus, accom- 
 panied by a friend, was engaged in looking for a ^ab at 
 the time of the unfortunate occurrence. As Mr. Malthus 
 was paralytic, it is thought that his fall may have been 
 occasioned by another seizure. The unhappy gentleman 
 was well known in the most respectable circles, and his 
 loss will be widely and deeply deplored. ' ' 
 
 "If ever a soul went straight to Hell," said Geraldine 
 solemnly, "it was that paraljrtic man's." 
 
 The Prince buried his face in his hands, and remained 
 silent. 
 
 "I am almost rejoiced," continued the Colonel, "to 
 know that he is dead. But for our young man of the 
 cream tarts I confess my heart bleeds." 
 
 "Geraldine," said the Prince, raising his face, "that 
 unhappy lad was last night as innocent as you and I; and 
 this morning the guilt of blood is on his soul. When I 
 think of the President, my heart grows sick within me. 
 I do not know how it shall be done, but I shall have that 
 scoundrel at my mercy as there is a God in heaven. What 
 an experience, what a lesson, was that game of cards!" 
 
 "One," said the Colonel, "never to be repeated." 
 
 The Prince remained so long without replying, that 
 Geraldine grew alarmed. 
 
 "You cannot mean to return." he said. "You have 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 31 
 
 suffered too much and seen too much horror already. The 
 duties of your high position forbid the repetition of the 
 hazard." 
 
 "There is much in what you say," replied Prince Flori- 
 zel, ' 'and I am not altogether pleased with my own deter- 
 mination. Alas! in the clothes of the greatest potentate, 
 what is there but a man? I never felt my weakness more 
 acutely than now, Geraldine, but it is stronger than I. 
 Can I cease to interest myself in the fortunes of the un- 
 happy young man who supped with us some hours ago? 
 Can I leave the President to follow his nefarious career 
 unwatched? Can I begin an adventure so entrancing, and 
 not follow it to an end? No, Geraldine; you ask of the 
 Prince more than the man is able to perform. To-night, 
 once more, we take our places at the table of the Suicide 
 Club." 
 
 Colonel Geraldine fell upon his knees. 
 
 "Will your Highness take my life?" he cried. "It is 
 his — his freely; but do not, do not! let him ask me to 
 countenance so terrible a risk." 
 
 "Colonel Geraldine," replied the Prince, with some 
 haughtiness of manner, ' 'your life is absolutely your own. 
 I only looked for obedience; and when that is unwillingly 
 rendered, I shall look for that no longer. I add one word : 
 your importunity in this affair has been sufficient." 
 
 The Master of the Horse regained his feet at once. 
 "Your Highness," he said, "may I be excused in my 
 attendance this afternoon? I dare not, as an honorable 
 man, venture a second time into that fatal house until I 
 have perfectly ordered my affairs. Your Highness shall 
 meet, I promise him, with no more opposition from the 
 most devoted and grateful of his servants." 
 
 "My dear Geraldine," returned Prince Florizel, "I 
 always regret when you oblige me to remember my rank. 
 
S2 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 Dispose of your day as you think fit, but be here before 
 eleven in the same disguise." 
 
 The club, on this second evening, was not so fully at- 
 tended; and when Geraldine and the Prince arrived, there 
 were not above half-a-dozen persons in the smoking-room. 
 His Highness took the President aside and congratulated 
 him warmly on the demise of Mr. Malthus. 
 
 "I like," he said," to meet with capacity, and certainly 
 find much of it in you. Your profession is of a very deli- 
 cate nature, but I see you are well qualified to conduct it 
 with success and secrecy." 
 
 The President was somewhat affected by these compli- 
 ments from one of his Highness's superior bearing. He 
 acknowledged them almost with humility. 
 
 "Poor Malthy!" he added, "I shall hardly know the 
 club without him. The most of my patrons are boys, sir, 
 and poetical boys, who are not much company for me. 
 Not but what Malthy had some poetry, too; but it was of 
 a kind that I could understand." 
 
 "I can readily imagine you should find yourself in 
 sympathy with Mr. Malthus, ' ' returned the Prince. ' 'He 
 struck me as a man of a very original disposition." 
 
 The young man of the cream tarts was in the room, but 
 painfully depressed and silent. His late companions 
 sought in vain to lead him into conversation. 
 
 "How bitterly I wish," he cried, "that I had never 
 brought you to this infamous abode! Begone, while you 
 are clean-handed. If you could have heard the old man 
 scream as he fell, and the noise of his bones upon the 
 pavement! Wish me, if you have any kindness to so 
 fallen a being— wish the ace of spades for me to-night!" 
 
 A few more members dropped in as the evening went 
 on, but the club did not muster more than the devil's 
 dozen when they took their places at the table. The 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 33 
 
 Prince was again conscious of a certain joy in his alarms; 
 but he was astonished to see Geraldine so much more self- 
 possessed than on the night before. 
 
 "It is extraordinary," thought the Prince, "that a 
 will, made or unmade, should so greatly influence a 
 young man's spirit." 
 
 "Attention, gentlemen!" said the President, and he 
 began to deal. 
 
 Three times the cards went all round the table, and 
 neither of the marked cards had yet fallen from his hand. 
 The excitement as he began the fourth distribution was 
 overwhelming. There were just cards enough to go once 
 more entirely round. The Prince, who sat second from 
 the dealer's left, would receive, in the reverse mode of 
 dealing practiced at the club, the second last card. The 
 third player turned up a black ace — it was the ace of 
 clubs. The next received a diamond, the next a heart, 
 and so on; but the ace of spades was still undelivered. 
 At last Geraldine, who sat upon the Prince's left, turned 
 his card; it was an ace, but the ace of hearts. 
 
 When Prince Florizel saw his fate upon the table in 
 front of him, his heart stood still. He was a brave man, 
 but the sweat poured off his face. There were exactly 
 fifty chances out of a hundred that he was doomed. He 
 reversed the card; it was the ace of spades. A loud 
 roaring filled his brain, and the table swam before his 
 eyes. He heard the player on his right break into a fit of 
 laughter that sounded between mirth and disappointment; 
 he saw the company rapidly dispersing, but his mind was 
 full of other thoughts. He recognized how foolish, how 
 criminal, had been his conduct. In perfect health, in the 
 prime of his years, the heir to a throne, he had gambled 
 away his future and that of a brave and loyal country. 
 "God," he cried, "God forgive me!" And with that. 
 
34 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 the confusion of his senses passed away, and he regained 
 his self-possession in a moment. 
 
 To his surprise Geraldine had disappeared. There was no 
 one in the card-room but his destined butcher consulting 
 with the President, and the young man of the cream tarts, 
 who slipped up to the Prince and whispered in his ear: 
 
 "I would give a million, if I had it, for your luck." 
 
 His Highness could not help reflecting, as the young 
 man departed, that he would have sold his opportunity 
 for a much more moderate sum. 
 
 The whispered conference now came to an end. The 
 holder of the ace of clubs left the room with a look of 
 intelligence, and the President, approaching the unfor- 
 tunate Prince, proffered him his hand, 
 
 "I am pleased to have met you, sir," said he, "and 
 pleased to have been in a position to do you this trifling 
 service. At least, you cannot complain of delay. On the 
 second evening— what a stroke of luck!" 
 
 The Prince endeavored in vain to articulate something 
 in response, but his mouth was dry and his tongue seemed 
 paralyzed. 
 
 "You feel a little sickish?" asked the President, with 
 some show of solicitude. "Most gentlemen do. Will you 
 take a little brandy?" 
 
 The Prince signified in the affirmative, and the other 
 immediately filled some of the spirit into a tumbler. 
 
 "Poor old Malthy!" ejaculated the President, as the 
 Prince drained the glass. "He drank near upon a pint, 
 and little enough good it seemed to do him!" 
 
 "I am more amenable to treatment," said the Prince, 
 a good deal revived. "I am my own man again at once, 
 as you perceive. And so, let me ask you, what are my 
 directions?" 
 
 "You will proceed along the Strand in the direction of 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 35 
 
 the City, and on the left-hand pavement, until you meet 
 the gentleman who has just left the room. He will con- 
 tinue your instructions, and him you will have the kind- 
 ness to obey; the authority of the club is vested in his 
 person for the night. And now," added the President, 
 "I wish you a pleasant walk." 
 
 Florizel acknowledged the salutation rather awkwardly, 
 ^nd took his leave. He passed through the smoking-room, 
 where the bulk of the players were still consuming cham- 
 pagne, some of which he had himself ordered and paid 
 for; and he was surprised to find himself cursing them 
 in his heart. He put on his hat and great coat in the 
 cabinet, and selected his umbrella from a corner. The 
 familiarity of these acts, and the thought that he was 
 about them for the last time, betrayed him into a fit of 
 laughter which sounded unpleasantly in his own ears. He 
 conceived a reluctance to leave the cabinet, and turned 
 instead to the window. The sight of the lamps and the 
 darkness recalled him to himself. 
 
 "Come, come, I must be a man," he thought, "and 
 tear myself away." 
 
 At the corner of Box Court three men fell upon Prince 
 Florizel and he was unceremoniously thrust into a car- 
 riage, which at once drove rapidly away. There was 
 already an occupant. 
 
 "Will your Highness pardon my zeal?" said a well- 
 known voice. 
 
 The Prince threw himself upon the Colonel's neck in a 
 passion of relief. 
 
 "How can I ever thank you?" he cried. "And how 
 was this effected?" 
 
 Although he had been willing to march upon his doom, 
 he was overjoyed to yield to friendly violence, and return 
 once more to life and hope. 
 
36 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "You can thank me effectually enough," replied the 
 Colonel, "by avoiding all such dangers in the future. 
 And as for your second question, all has been managed 
 by the simplest means. I arranged this afternoon with a 
 celebrated detective. Secrecy has been promised and paid 
 for. Your own servants have been principally engaged 
 in the affair. The house in Box Court has been surrounded 
 since nightfall, and this, which is one of your own car- 
 riages, has been awaiting you for nearly an hour." 
 
 ' 'And the miserable creature who was to have slain me 
 — what of him?" inquired the Prince. 
 
 "He was pinioned as he left the club," replied the 
 Colonel, "and now awaits your sentence at the Palace, 
 where he will soon be joined by his accomplices." 
 
 "Geraldine," said the Prince, "you have saved me 
 against my explicit orders, and you have done well. I 
 owe you not only my life, but a lesson; and I should be 
 unworthy of my rank if I did not show myself grateful to 
 my teacher. Let it be yours to choose the manner." 
 
 There was a pause, during which the carriage continued 
 to speed through the streets, and the two men were each 
 buried in his own reflections. The silence was broken by 
 Colonel Geraldine. 
 
 "Your Highness," said he, "has by this time a con- 
 siderable body of prisoners. There is at least one crim- 
 inal among the number to whom justice should be dealt. ' 
 Our oath forbids us all recourse to law; and discretion 
 would forbid it equally if the oath were loosened. May I 
 inquire your Highness's intention?" 
 
 " It is decided, ' ' answered Florizel ; ' 'the President must 
 fall in duel. It only remains to choose his adversary." 
 
 "Your Highness has permitted me to name my own 
 recompense," said the Colonel. "Will he permit me to 
 ask the appointment of my brother? It is an honorable 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 37 
 
 post, but I dare assure your Highness that the lad will 
 acquit himself with credit." 
 
 "You ask me an ungracious favor," said the Prince, 
 ' 'but I must refuse you nothing. ' ' 
 
 The Colonel kissed his hand with the greatest affection; 
 and at that moment the carriage rolled under the archway 
 of the Prince's splendid residence. 
 
 An hour after, Florizel in his official robes, and covered 
 with all the orders of Bohemia, received the members of 
 the Suicide Club. 
 
 "Foolish and wicked men," said he, "as many of you 
 as have been driven into this strait by the lack of fortune 
 shall receive employment and remuneration from my 
 officers. Those who suffer under a sense of guilt must 
 have recourse to a higher and more generous Potentate 
 than I. I feel pity for all of you, deeper than you can 
 imagine; to-morrow you shall tell me your stories; and 
 as you answer more frankly, I shall be the more able to 
 remedy your misfortunes. As for you," he added, turn- 
 ing to the President, "I should only offend a person of 
 your parts by any offer of assistance; but I have instead 
 a piece of diversion to propose to you. Here, ' ' laying 
 his hand on the shoulder of Colonel Geraldine's young 
 brother, "is an officer of mine who desires to make a 
 little tour upon the Continent; and I ask you, as a favor, 
 to accompany him on this excursion. Do you, ' ' he went 
 on, changing his tone, "do you shoot well with the pistol? 
 Because you may have need of that accomplishment. 
 When two men go traveling together, it is best to be pre- 
 pared for all. Let me add that, if by any chance you 
 should lose young Mr. Geraldine upon the way, I shall 
 always have another member of my household to place at 
 your disposal; and I am known, Mr. President, to have 
 long eyesight, and as long an arm." 
 
38 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 With these words, said with much sternness, the Prince 
 concluded his address. Next morning the members of 
 the club were suitably provided for by his munificence, 
 and the President set forth upon his travels, under the 
 supervision of Mr. Geraldine, and a pair of faithful and 
 adroit lackeys, well trained in the Prince's household. 
 Not content with this, discreet agents were put in posses- 
 sion of the house of Box Court, and all letters of visitors 
 for the Suicide Club or its officials were to be examined 
 by Prince Florizel in person. 
 
 Here (says my Arabian author) ends The Story of 
 THE Young Man with the Cream Tarts, who is now a 
 comfortable householder in Wigmore Street, Cavendish 
 Square. The number, for obvious reasons, I suppress. 
 Those who care to pursue the adventures of Prince Flori- 
 zel and the President of the Suicide Club, may read the 
 History of the Physician and the Saratoga Trunk. 
 
 STORY OF THE PHYSICIAN AND THE 
 SARATOGA TRUNK 
 
 Mr. Silas Q. Scuddamore was a young American of a 
 simple and harmless disposition, which was the more to 
 his credit as he came from New England — a quarter of 
 the New World not precisely famous for those qualities. 
 Although he was exceedingly rich, he kept a note of all 
 his expenses in a little paper pocket-book; and he had 
 chosen to study the attractions of Paris from the seventh 
 story of what is called a furnished hotel, in the Latin 
 Quarter. There was a great deal of habit in his penuri- 
 ousness; and his virtue, which was very remarkable among 
 his associates, was principally founded upon diffidence 
 and youth. 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 39 
 
 The next room to his was inhabited by a lady, very 
 attractive in her air and very elegant in toilette, whom, 
 on his first arrival, he had taken for a Countess. In 
 course of time he had learned that she was known by the 
 name of Madame Zephyrine, and that whatever station 
 she occupied in life it was not that of a person of title. 
 Madame Zephyrine, probably in the hope of enchanting 
 the young American, used to flaunt by him on the stairs 
 with a civil inclination, a word of course, and a knock- 
 down look out of her black eyes, and disappear in a rustle 
 of silk, and with the revelation of an admirable foot and 
 ankle. But these advances, so far from encouraging Mr. 
 Scuddamore, plunged him into the depths of depression 
 and bashfulness. She had come to him several times for 
 a light, or to apologize for the imaginary depredations of 
 her poodle; but his mouth was closed in the presence of 
 so superior a being, his French promptly left him, and he 
 could only stare and stammer until she was gone. The 
 slenderness of their intercourse did not prevent him from 
 throwing out insinuations of a very glorious order when 
 he was safely alone with a few males. 
 
 The room on the other side of the American's — for there 
 were three rooms on a floor in the hotel — was tenanted by 
 an old English physician of rather doubtful reputation. 
 Dr. Noel, for that was his name, had been forced to leave 
 London, where he enjoyed a large and increasing prac- 
 tice; and it was hinted that the police had been the 
 instigators of this change of scene. At least he, who 
 had made something of a figure in earlier life, now dwelt 
 in the Latin Quarter in great simplicity and solitude, and 
 devoted much of his time to study. Ml:. Scuddamore had 
 made his acquaintance, and the pair would now and then 
 dine together frugally in a restaurant across the street. 
 
 Silas Q. Scuddamore had many little vices of the more 
 
40 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 respectable order, and was not restrained by delicacy from 
 indulging them in many rather doubtful ways. Chief 
 among his foibles stood curiosity. He was a born gossip; 
 and life, and especially those parts of it in which he had 
 no experience, interested him to the degree of passion. 
 He was a pert, invincible questioner, pushing his inquiries 
 with equal pertinacity and indiscretion; he had been 
 observed, when he took a letter to the post, to weigh it 
 in his hand, to turn it over and over, and to study the 
 address with care; and when he found a flaw in the 
 partition between his room and Madame Zephyrine's, 
 instead of filling it up, he enlarged and improved the 
 opening, and made use of it as a spy-hole on his neighbor's 
 affairs. 
 
 One day, in the end of March, his curiosity growing as 
 it was indulged, he enlarged the hole a little further, so 
 that he might command another corner of the room. That 
 evening, when he went as usual to inspect Madame Zephy- 
 rine's movements, he was astonished to find the aperture 
 obscured in an odd manner on the other side, and still 
 more abashed when the obstacle was suddenly withdrawn 
 and a titter of laughter reached his ears. Some of the 
 plaster had evidently betrayed the secret of his spy-hole, 
 and his neighbor had been returning the compliment in 
 kind. Mr. Scuddamore was moved to a very acute feeling 
 of annoyance; he condemned Madame Zephyrine unmerci- 
 fully; he even blamed himself; but when he found, next 
 day, that she had taken no means to balk him of his 
 favorite pastime, he continued to profit by her careless- 
 ness, and gratify his idle curiosity. 
 
 That next day Madame Zephyrine received a long visit 
 from a tall, loosely built man of fifty or upwards, whom 
 Silas had not hitherto seen. His tweed suit and colored 
 shirt, no less than his shaggy side-whiskers, identified 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 41 
 
 him as a Britisher, and his dull gray eye affected Silas 
 with a sense of cold. He kept screwing his mouth from 
 side to side and round and round during the whole col- 
 loquy, which was carried on in whispers. More than 
 once it seemed to the young New-Englander as if their 
 gestures indicated his own apartment; but the only thing 
 definite he could gather by the most scrupulous attention 
 was this remark made by the Englishman in a somewhat 
 higher key, as if in answer to some reluctance or opposi- 
 tion: 
 
 "I have studied his taste to a nicety, and I tell you 
 again and again you are the only woman of the sort that I 
 can lay my hands on." 
 
 In answer to this, Madame Zephyrine sighed, and ap- 
 peared by a gesture to resign herself, like one yielding to 
 unqualified authority. 
 
 That afternoon the observatory was finally blinded, a 
 wardrobe having been drawn in front of it upon the other 
 side, and while Silas was still lamenting over this misfor- 
 tune, which he attributed to the Britisher's malign sug- 
 gestion, the concierge brought him up a letter in a female 
 handwriting. It was conceived in French of no very rigor- 
 ous orthography, bore no signature, and in the most en- 
 couraging terms invited the young American to be present 
 in a certain part of the Bullier Ball at eleven o'clock that 
 night. Curiosity and timidity fought a long battle in his 
 heart; sometimes he was all virtue, sometimes all fire and 
 daring; and the result of it was that, long before ten, 
 Mr. Silas Q. Scuddamore presented himself in unimpeach- 
 able attire at the door of the Bullier Ball Rooms, and paid 
 his entry money with a sense of reckless deviltry that was 
 not without its charm. 
 
 It was Carnival time, and the Ball was very full and 
 noisy. The lights and the crowd at first rather abashed 
 
42 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 our young adventurer, and then, mounting to his brain 
 with a sort of intoxication, put him in possession of more 
 than his own share of manhood. He felt ready to face 
 the devil, and strutted in the ballroom with the swagger 
 of a cavalier. While he was thus parading, he became 
 aware of Madame Zephyrine and her Britisher in confer- 
 ence behind a pillar. The cat-like spirit of eavesdropping 
 overcame him at once. He stole nearer and nearer on the 
 couple from behind, until he was within earshot. 
 
 "That is the man," the Britisher was saying; "there 
 — with the long blond hair — speaking to a girl in 
 green. ' ' 
 
 Silas identified a very handsome young fellow of small 
 stature, who was plainly the object of this designation. 
 
 "It is well," said Madame Zephyrine. "I shall do my 
 utmost. But, remember, the best of us may fail in such 
 a matter." 
 
 "Tut!" returned her companion; "I answer for the 
 result. Have I not chosen you from thirty? Go; but be 
 wary of the Prince. I cannot think what cursed accident 
 has brought him here to-night. As if there were not a 
 dozen balls in Paris better worth his notice than this riot 
 of students and counter-jumpers! See him where he sits, 
 more like a reigning Emperor at home than a Prince upon 
 his holidays!" 
 
 Silas was again lucky. He observed a person of rather 
 a full build, strikingly handsome, and of a very stately 
 and courteous demeanor, seated at table with another 
 handsome young man, several years his junior, who ad- 
 dressed him with conspicuous deference. The name of 
 Prince struck gratefully on Silas's Republican hearing, 
 and the aspect of the person to whom that name was 
 applied exercised its usual charm upon his mind. He left 
 Madame Zephyrine and her Englishman to take care of 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 43 
 
 each other, and threading his way through the assembly, 
 approached the table which the Prince and his confidant 
 had honored with their choice. 
 
 "I tell you, Geraldine," the former was saying, "the 
 action is madness. Yourself (I am glad to remember it) 
 chose your brother for this perilous service, and you are 
 bound in duty to have a guard upon his conduct. He has 
 consented to delay so many days in Paris; that was already 
 an imprudence, considering the character of the man he 
 has to deal with; but now, when he is within eight and 
 forty hours of his departure, when he is within two or 
 three days of the decisive trial, I ask you, is this a place 
 for him to spend his time? He should be in a gallery at 
 practice; he should be sleeping long hours and taking 
 moderate exercise on foot; he should be on a rigorous 
 diet, without white wines or brandy. Does the dog 
 imagine we are all playing comedy? The thing is deadly 
 earnest, Geraldine." 
 
 "I know the lad too well to interfere," replied Colonel 
 Geraldine, "and well enough nrfc to be alarmed. He is 
 more cautious than you fancy, and of an indomitable 
 spirit. If it had been a woman I should not say so much, 
 but I trust the President to him and the two valets with- 
 out an instant's apprehension." 
 
 "I am gratified to hear you say so, " replied the Prince; 
 "but my mind is not at rest. These servants are well- 
 trained spies, and already has not this miscreant succeeded 
 three times in eluding their observation and spending 
 several hours on end in private, and most likely danger- 
 ous, affairs? An amateur might have lost him by acci- 
 dent, but if Rudolph and Jerome were thrown off the 
 scent, it must have been done on purpose, and by a man 
 who had a cogent reason and exceptional resources." 
 
 "I believe the question is now one between my brother 
 
44 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 and myself," replied Geraldine, with a shade of offense 
 in his tone. 
 
 "I permit it to be so, Colonel Geraldine," returned 
 Prince Florizel. "Perhaps, for that very reason, you 
 should be all the more ready to accept my counsels. But 
 enough. That girl in yellow dances well." 
 
 And the talk veered into the ordinary topics of a Paris 
 ballroom in the Carnival. 
 
 Silas remembered where he was, and that the hour was 
 already near at hand when he ought to be upon the scene 
 of his assignation. The more he reflected the less he liked 
 the prospect, and as at that moment an eddy in the crowd 
 began to draw him in the direction of the door, he suffered 
 it to carry him away without resistance. The eddy stranded 
 him in a corner under the gallery, where his ear was im- 
 mediately struck with the voice of Madame Zephyrine. 
 She was speaking in French with the young man of the 
 blond locks who had been pointed out by the strange 
 Britisher not half an hour before. 
 
 "I have a character at stake," she said, "or I would 
 put no other condition than my heart recommends. But 
 you have only to say so much to the porter, and he will 
 let you go by without a word." 
 
 "But why this talk of debt?" objected her companion. 
 
 "Heavens!" said she, "do you think I dp not under- 
 stand my own hotel?" 
 
 And she went by, clinging affectionately to her com- 
 panion's arm. 
 
 This put Silas in mind of his billet. 
 
 "Ten minutes hence," thought he, "and I may be walk- 
 ing with as beautiful a woman as that, and even better 
 dressed — perhaps a real lady, possibly a woman of title." 
 
 And then he remembered the spelling, and was a little 
 downcast. 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 45 
 
 "But it may have been written by her maid," he 
 imagined. 
 
 The clock was only a few minutes from the hour, and 
 this immediate proximity set his heart beating at a curi- 
 ous and rather disagreeable speed. He reflected with 
 relief that he was in no way bound to put in an appear- 
 ance. Virtue and cowardice were together, and he made 
 once more for the door, but this time of his own accord, 
 and battling against the stream of people which was now 
 moving in a contrary direction. Perhaps this prolonged 
 resistance wearied him, or perhaps he was in that frame 
 of mind when merely to continue in the same determina- 
 tion for a certain number of minutes produces a reaction 
 and a different purpose. Certainly, at least, he wheeled 
 about for a third time, and did not stop until he had 
 found a place of concealment within a few yards of the 
 appoii^ted place. 
 
 Here he went through an agony of spirit, in which he 
 several times prayed to God for help, for Silas had been 
 devoutly educated. He had now not the least inclination 
 for the meeting; nothing kept him from flight but a silly 
 fear lest he should be thought unmanly; but this was so 
 powerful that it kept head against all other motives; and 
 although it could not decide him to advance, prevented 
 him from definitely running away. At last the clock in- 
 dicated ten minutes past the hour. Young Scuddamore's 
 spirit began to rise; he peered round the corner and saw 
 no one at the place of meeting; doubtless his unknown 
 correspondent had wearied and gone away. He became 
 as bold as he had formerly been timid. It seemed to him 
 that if he came at all to the appointment, however late, 
 he was clear from the charge of cowardice. Nay, now 
 he began to suspect a hoax, and actually complimented 
 himself on his shrewdness in having suspected and out- 
 
46 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 mancEuvred his mystifiers. So very idle a thing is a boy's 
 mind! 
 
 Armed with these reflections, he advanced boldly from 
 his corner; but he had not taken above a couple of steps 
 before a hand was laid upon his arm. He turned and 
 beheld a lady cast in a very large mould and with some- 
 what stately features, but bearing no mark of severity in 
 her looks. 
 
 "I see that you are a very self-confident lady-killer," 
 said she; "for you make yourself expected. But I was 
 determined to meet you. When a woman has once so far 
 forgotten herself as to make the first advance, she has long 
 ago left behind her all considerations of petty pride. ' ' 
 
 Silas was overwhelmed by the size and attractions of 
 his correspondent and the suddenness with which she had 
 fallen upon him. But she soon set him at his ease. She 
 was very towardly and lenient in her behavior; she led 
 him on to make pleasantries, and then applauded him to 
 the echo; and in a very short time, between blandishments 
 and a liberal exhibition of warm brandy, she had not only 
 induced him to fancy himself in love, but to declare his 
 passion with the greatest vehemence. 
 
 "Alas!" she said; "I do not know whether I ought not 
 to deplore this moment, great as is the pleasure you give 
 me by your words. Hitherto I was alone to suffer; now, 
 poor boy, there will be two. I am not my own mistress. 
 I dare not ask you to visit me at my own house, for I am 
 watched by jealous eyes. Let me see," she added; "I am 
 older than you, although so much weaker; and while I 
 trust in your courage and determination, I must employ 
 my own knowledge of the world for our mutual benefit. 
 Where do you live?" 
 
 He told her that he lodged in a furnished hotel, and 
 named the street and number. 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 47 
 
 She seemed to reflect for some minutes, with an effort 
 of mind. 
 
 "I see," she said at last. "You will be faithful and 
 obedient, will you not?" 
 
 Silas assured her eagerly of his fidelity. 
 
 ' 'To-morrow night, then, ' ' she continued, with an en- 
 couraging smile, "you must remain at home all the even- 
 ing; and if any friends should visit you, dismiss them at 
 once on any pretext that most readily presents itself. 
 Your door is probably shut by ten?" she asked. 
 
 "By eleven," answered Silas. 
 
 "At a quarter past eleven," pursued the lady, "leave 
 the house. Merely cry for the door to be opened, and be 
 sure you fall into no talk with the porter, as that might 
 ruin everything. Go straight to the corner where the 
 Luxembourg Gardens join the Boulevard; there you will 
 find me waiting you. I trust you to follow my advice 
 from point to point; and remember, if you fail me in 
 only one particular, you will bring the sharpest trouble 
 on a woman whose only fault is to have seen and loved 
 you. ' ' 
 
 "I cannot see the use of all these instructions," said 
 Silas. 
 
 "I believe you are already beginning to treat me as a 
 master, ' ' she cried, tapping him with her fan upon the 
 arm. "Patience, patience! that should come in time. A 
 woman loves to be obeyed at first, although afterwards 
 she finds her pleasure in obeying. Do as I ask you, for 
 Heaven's sake, or I will answer for nothing. Indeed, 
 now I think of it," she added, with the manner of one 
 who had just seen further into a diflSculty, "I find abetter 
 plan of keeping importunate visitors away. Tell the 
 porter to admit no one for you, except a person who may 
 come that night to claim a debt; and speak with some 
 
48 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 feeling, as though you feared the interview, so that he 
 may take your words in earnest. ' ' 
 
 "I think you may trust me to protect myself against 
 intruders," he said, not without a little pique. 
 
 "That is how I should prefer the thing arranged," she 
 answered, coldly. "I know you men; you think nothing 
 of a woman's reputation. " 
 
 Silas blushed and somewhat hung his head; for the 
 scheme he had in view had involved a little vainglorying 
 before his acquaintances. 
 
 "Above all," she added, "do not speak to the porter as 
 you come out." 
 
 "And why?" said he. "Of all your instructions, that 
 seems to me the least important." 
 
 ' 'You at first doubted the wisdom of some of the others, 
 which you now see to be very necessary, ' ' she replied. 
 "Believe me, this also has its uses; in time you will see 
 them; and what am I to think of your affection, if you 
 refuse me such trifles at our first interview?" 
 
 Silas confounded himself in explanations and apologies; 
 in the middle of these she looked up at the clock and 
 clapped her hands together with a suppressed scream. 
 
 "Heavens!" she cried, "is it so late? I have not an 
 instant to lose. Alas, we poor women, what slaves we 
 are! What have I not risked for you already?" 
 
 And after repeating her directions, which she artfully 
 combined with caresses and the most abandoned looks, 
 she bade him farewell and disappeared among the crowd. 
 
 The whole of the next day Silas was filled with a sense 
 of great importance; he was now sure she was a countess; 
 and when evening came he minutely obeyed her orders 
 and was at the corner of the Luxembourg Gardens by the 
 hour appointed. No one was there. He waited nearly 
 half an hour, looking in the face of everyone who passed 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 49 
 
 or loitered near the spot; he even visited the neighboring 
 corners of the Boulevard and made a complete circuit of 
 the garden railings; but there was no beautiful countess 
 to throw herself into his arms. At last, and most reluc- 
 tantly, he began to retrace his steps towards his hotel. 
 On the way he remembered the words he had heard pass 
 between Madame Zephyrine and the blond young man, 
 and they gave him an indefinite uneasiness. 
 
 "It appears," he reflected, "that everyone has to tell 
 lies to our porter." 
 
 He rang the bell, the door opened before him, and the 
 porter in his bedclothes came to offer him a light. 
 
 "Has he gone?" inquired the porter. 
 
 "He? Whom do you mean?" asked Silas, somewhat 
 sharply, for he was irritated by his disappointment. 
 
 "I did not notice him go out," continued the porter, 
 "but I trust you paid him. We do not care, in this house, 
 to have lodgers who cannot meet their liabilities." 
 
 "What the devil do you mean?" demanded Silas, 
 rudely. "I cannot understand a word of this farrago. " 
 
 "The short, blond young man who came for his debt," 
 returned the other. "Him it is I mean. Who else should 
 it be, when I had your orders to admit no one else?" 
 
 "Why, good God, of course he never came," retorted 
 Silas. 
 
 "I believe what I believe," retorted the porter, putting 
 his tongue into his cheek with a most roguish air. 
 
 "You are an insolent scoundrel," cried Silas, and, feel- 
 ing that he had made a ridiculous exhibition of asperity, 
 and at the same time bewildered by a doaen alarms, he 
 turned and began to run up stairs. 
 
 "Do you not want a light then?" cried the porter. 
 
 But Silas only hurried the faster, and did not pause 
 until he had reached the seventh landing and stood in 
 
50 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 front of his own door. There he waited a moment to 
 recover his breath, assailed by the worst forebodings and 
 almost dreading to enter the room. 
 
 When at last he did so he was relieved to find it dark, 
 and to all appearance, untenanted. He drew a long 
 breath. Here he was, home again in safety, and this 
 should be his last folly as certainly as it had been his 
 first. The matches stood on a little table by the bed, 
 and he began to grope his way in that direction. As he 
 moved, his apprehensions grew upon him once more, and 
 he was pleased, when his foot encountered an obstacle, to 
 find it nothing more alarming than a chair. At last he 
 touched curtains. From the position of the window, 
 which was faintly visible, he knew he must be at the foot 
 of the bed, and had only to feel his way along it in order 
 to reach the table in question. 
 
 He lowered his hand, but what he touched was not 
 simply a counterpane — it was a counterpane with some- 
 thing underneath it like the outline of a human leg. Silas 
 withdrew his arm and stood a moment petrified. 
 
 "What, what," he thought, "can this betoken?" 
 
 He listened intently, but there was no sound of breath- 
 ing. Once more, with a great effort, he reached out the 
 end of his finger to the spot he had already touched; but 
 this time he leaped back half a yard, and stood shivering 
 and fixed with terror. There was something in his bed. 
 What it was he knew not, but there was something there. 
 
 It was some seconds before he could move. Then, guided 
 by an instinct, he fell straight upon the matches, and 
 keeping his back toward the bed, lighted a candle. As 
 soon as the flame had kindled, he turned slowly round and 
 looked for what he feared to see. Sure enough, there 
 was the worst of his imaginations realized. The coverlid 
 was drawn carefully up over the pillow, but it moulded 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 51 
 
 the outline of a human body lying motionless; arid when 
 he dashed forward and flung aside the sheets, he beheld 
 the blond young man whom he had seen in the Bullier 
 Ball the night before, his eyes open and without specula- 
 tion, his face swollen and blackened, and a thin stream of 
 blood trickling from his nostrils. 
 
 Silas uttered a long, tremulous wail, dropped the candle, 
 and fell on his knees beside the bed. 
 
 Silas was awakened from the stupor into which his ter- 
 rible discovery had plunged him, by a prolonged but dis- 
 creet tapping at the door. It took him some seconds to 
 remember his position; and when he hastened to prevent 
 anyone from entering it was already too late. Dr. Noel, 
 in a tall nightcap, carrying a lamp which lighted up his 
 long white countenance, sidling in his gait, and peering 
 and cocking his head like some sort of bird, pushed the 
 door slowly open, and advanced into the middle of the 
 room. 
 
 "I thought I heard a cry," began the Doctor, "and 
 fearing you might be unwell, I did not hesitate to offer 
 this intrusion." 
 
 Silas, with a flushed face and a fearful beating heart, 
 kept between the Doctor and the bed; but he found no 
 voice to answer. 
 
 "You are in the dark," pursued the Doctor; "and yet 
 you have not even begun to prepare for rest. You will ; 
 not easily persuade me against my own eyesight; and your 
 face declares most eloquently that you require either a 
 friend or a physician — ^which is it to be? Let me feel 
 your pulse, for that is often a just reporter of the heart. ' ' 
 
 He advanced to Silas, who still retreated before him 
 backwards, and sought to take him by the wrist; but the 
 strain on the young American's nerves had become too 
 great for endurance. He avoided the Doctor with a febrile 
 
52 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 movement, and, throwing himself upon the floor, burst 
 into a flood of weeping. 
 
 As soon as Dr. Noel perceived the dead man in the 
 bed his face darkened; and hurrying back to the door 
 which he had left ajar, he hastily closed and double- 
 locked it. 
 
 "Up!" he cried, addressing Silas in strident tones. 
 "This is no time for weeping. What have you done? 
 How came this body in your room? Speak freely to one 
 who may be helpful. Do you imagine I would ruin you? 
 Do you think this piece of dead flesh on your pillow can 
 alter in any degree the sympathy with which you have 
 inspired me? Credulous youth, the horror with which 
 blind and unjust law regards an action never attaches to 
 the doer in the eyes of those who love him; and if I saw 
 the friend of my heart turn to me out of seas of blood he 
 would be in no way changed in my affection. Raise your- 
 self," he said; "good and ill are a chimera; there is 
 naught in life except destiny, and however you may be 
 circumstanced there is one at your side who will help you 
 to the last." 
 
 Thus encouraged, Silas gathered himself together, and 
 in a broken voice, and helped out by the Doctor's inter- 
 rogations, contrived at last to put him in possession of 
 the facts. But the conversation between the Prince and 
 Geraldine he altogether omitted, as he had understood 
 little of its purport, and had no idea that it was in any 
 way related to his own misadventure. 
 
 "Alas!?" cried Dr. Noel, "I am much abused, or you 
 have fallen innocently into the most dangerous hands in 
 Europe. Poor boy, what a pit has been dug for your 
 simplicity! into what a deadly peril have your unwary 
 feet been conducted! This man," he said, "this English- 
 man, whom you twice saw, and whom I suspect to be the 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 53 
 
 soul of the contrivance, can you describe him? Was he 
 young or old? tall or short?" 
 
 But Silas, who for all his curiosity, had not a seeing 
 eye in his head, was able to supply nothing but meagre 
 generalities, which it was impossible to recognize. 
 
 "I would have it a piece of education in all schools!" 
 cried the Doctor angrily. "Where is the use of eyesight 
 and articulate speech if a man cannot observe and recol- 
 lect the features of his enemy? I, who know all the gangs 
 of Europe, might have identified him, and gained new 
 weapons for your defence. Cultivate this art in future, 
 my poor boy; you may find it of momentous service." 
 
 "The future!" repeated Silas. "What future is there 
 left for me except the gallows?" 
 
 ' 'Youth is but a cowardly season, ' ' returned the Doctor; 
 "and a man's own troubles look blacker than they are. I 
 am old, and yet I never despair." 
 
 "Can I tell such a story to the police?" demanded Silas. 
 
 "Assuredly not, " replied the Doctor. "From what I 
 see already of the machination in which you have been 
 involved, your case is desperate upon that side; and for 
 the narrow eye of the authorities you are infallibly the 
 guilty person. And remember that we only know a por- 
 tion of the plot; and the same infamous contrivers have 
 doubtless arranged many other circumstances which would 
 be elicited by a police inquiry, and help to fix the guilt 
 more certainly upon your innocence." 
 
 "I am then lost, indeed!" cried Silas. 
 
 "I have not said so," answered Dr. Noel, "for I am a 
 cautious man." 
 
 "But look at this!" objected Silas, pointing to the 
 body. "Here is this object in my bed: not to be ex- 
 plained, not to be disposed of, not to be regarded without 
 horror." 
 
54 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Horror?" replied the Doctor. "No. When this sort 
 of clock has run down, it is no more to me than an in- 
 genious piece of mechanism, to be investigated with the 
 bistery. When blood is once cold and stagnant, it is no 
 longer human blood; when flesh is once dead, it is no 
 longer that flesh which we desire in our lovers and respect 
 in our friends. The grace, the attraction, the terror, 
 have all gone from it with the animating spirit. Accus- 
 tom yourself to look upon it with composure; for if my 
 scheme is practicable you will have to live in constant 
 proximity to that which now so greatly horrifies you." 
 
 "Your scheme?" cried Silas. "What is that? Tell me 
 speedily. Doctor; for I have scarcely courage enough to 
 continue to exist." 
 
 Without replying. Dr. Noel turned towards the bed, 
 and proceeded to examine the corpse. 
 
 "Quite dead," he murmured. "Yes, as I had sup- 
 posed, the pockets empty. Yes, and the name cut off the 
 shirt. Their work has been done thoroughly and well. 
 Fortunately he is of small stature." 
 
 Silas followed these words with an extreme anxiety. At 
 last the Doctor, his autopsy completed, took a chair and 
 addressed the young American with a smile. 
 
 "Since I came into your room," said he, "although my 
 ears and my tongue have been so busy, I have not suffered 
 my eyes to remain idle. I noted a little while ago that 
 you have there, in the corner, one of those monstrous 
 constructions which your fellow-countrymen carry with 
 them into all quarters of the globe — in a word, a Saratoga 
 trunk. Until this moment I have never been able to con- 
 ceive the utility of these erections; but then I began to 
 have a glimmer. Whether it was for convenience in the 
 slave trade, or to obviate the results of too ready an em- 
 ployment of the bowie-knife, I cannot bring myself to 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 55 
 
 decide. But one thing I see plainly — the object of such a 
 box is to contain a human body." 
 
 "Surely," cried Silas, "surely this is not a time for 
 jesting." 
 
 ' 'Although I may express myself with some degree of 
 pleasantry, ' ' replied the Doctor, ' ' the purport of my words 
 is entirely serious. And the first thing we have to do, my 
 young friend, is to empty your coffer of all it contains. ' 
 
 Silas, obeying the authority of Doctor Noel, put him- 
 self at his disposition. The Saratoga trunk was soon 
 gutted of its contents, which made a considerable litter 
 on the floor; and then — Silas taking the heels and the 
 Doctor supporting the shoulders — the body of the mur- 
 dered man was carried from the bed, and, after some 
 difficulty, doubled up and inserted whole into the empty 
 box. With an effort on the part of both, the lid was 
 forced down upon this unusual baggage, and the trunk 
 was locked and corded by the Doctor's own hand, while 
 Silas disposed of what had been taken out between the 
 closet and a chest of drawers. 
 
 "Now," said the Doctor, "the first step has been taken 
 on the way to your deliverance. To-morrow, or rather 
 to-day, it must be your task to allay the suspicions of 
 your porter, paying him all that you owe; while you may 
 trust me to make the arrangements necessary to a safe 
 conclusion. Meantime, follow me to my room, where I 
 shall give you a safe and powerful opiate; for, whatever 
 you do, you must have rest. " 
 
 The next day was the longest in Silas's memory; it 
 seemed as if it would never be done. He denied himself 
 to his friends, and sat in a corner with his eyes fixed 
 upon the Saratoga trunk in dismal contemplation. His 
 own former indiscretions were now returned upon him in 
 kind; for the observatory had been once more opened, and 
 
56 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 he was conscious of an almost continual study from 
 Madame Zephyrine's apartment. So distressing did this 
 become, that he was at last obliged to block up the spy- 
 hole from his own side; and when he was thus secured 
 from observation he spent a considerable portion of his 
 time in contrite tears and prayer. 
 
 Late in the evening Dr. Noel entered the room carry- 
 ing in his hand a pair of sealed envelopes without address, 
 one somewhat bulky, and the other so slim as to seem 
 without enclosure. 
 
 "Silas," he said, seating himself at the table, "the 
 time has now come for me to explain my plan for your 
 salvation. To-morrow morning, at an early hour. Prince 
 Florizel of Bohemia returns to London, after having 
 diverted himself for a few days with the Parisian Car- 
 nival. It was my fortune, a good while ago, to do Colonel 
 Geraldine, his Master of the Horse, one of those services 
 so common in my profession, which are never forgotten 
 upon either side. I have no need to explain to you the 
 nature of the obligation under which he was laid; suffice 
 it to say that I knew him ready to serve me in any prac- 
 ticable manner. Now, it was necessary for you to gain 
 London with your trunk unopened. To this the Custom 
 House seemed to oppose a fatal difficulty; but I bethought 
 me that the baggage of so considerable a person as the 
 Prince, is, as a matter of courtesy, passed without exam- 
 ination by the officers of Custom. I applied to Colonel 
 Geraldine, and succeeded in obtaining a favorable answer. 
 To-morrow, if you go before six to the hotel where the 
 Prince lodges, your baggage will be passed over as a part 
 of his, and you yourself will make the journey as a mem- 
 ber of his suite." 
 
 "It seems to me, as you speak, that I have already seen 
 both the Prince and Colonel Geraldine;^ I even overheard 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 57 
 
 some of their conversation the other evening at the BuUier 
 Ball." 
 
 "It is probable ^enough; for the Prince loves to mix 
 with all societies, " replied the Doctor. "Once arrived 
 in London," he pursued, "your task is nearly ended. In 
 this more bulky envelope I have given you a letter which 
 I dare not address; but in the other you will find the 
 designation of the house to which you must carry it along 
 with your box, which will there be taken from you and 
 not trouble you any more." 
 
 "Alas!" said Silas, "I have every wish to believe you; 
 but how is it possible? You open up to me a bright 
 prospect, but, I ask you, is my mind capable of receiving 
 so unlikely a solution? Be more generous, and let me 
 further understand your meaning." 
 
 The Doctor seemed painfully impressed. 
 
 "Boy," he answered, "you do not know how hard a 
 thing you ask of me. But be it so. I am now inured to 
 humiliation; and it would be strange if I refused you 
 this, after having granted you so much. Know, then, 
 that although I now make so quiet an appearance — ■ 
 frugal, solitary, addicted to study — ^when I was younger, 
 my name was once a rallying-cry among the most astute 
 and dangerous spirits of London; and while I was out- 
 wardly an object for respect and consideration, my true 
 power resided in the most secret, terrible, and criminal 
 relations. It is one of the persons who then obeyed me 
 that I now address myself to deliver you from your 
 burden. They were men of many different nations 
 and dexterities, all bound together by a formidable 
 path, and working to the same purposes; the trade of 
 the association was in murder; and I who speak to you, 
 innocent as I appear, was the chieftain of this redoubt- 
 able crew." 
 
58 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "What?" cried Silas. "A murderer? And one with 
 whom murder was a trade? Can I take your hand? Ought 
 I to so much as accept your services? Dark and criminal 
 old man, would you make an accomplice of my youth and 
 my distress." 
 
 The Doctor bitterly laughed. 
 
 "You are difficult to please, Mr, Scuddamore," said 
 he; "but I now offer you your choice of company between 
 the murdered man and the murderer. If your conscience 
 is too nice to accept my aid, say so, and I will immedi- 
 ately leave you. Thenceforward you can deal with your 
 trunk and its belongings as best suits your upright 
 conscience." 
 
 "I own myself wrong," replied Silas. "I should have 
 remembered how generously you offered to shield me, 
 even before I had convinced you of my innocence, and I 
 continue to listen to your counsels with gratitude." 
 
 "That is well," returned the Doctor; "and I perceive 
 you are beginning to learn some of the lessons of experi- 
 ence." 
 
 "At the same time," resumed the New-Englander, "as 
 you confess yourself accustomed to this tragical business, 
 and the people to whom you recommend me are your own 
 former associates and friends, could you not yourself 
 undertake the transport of the box, and rid me at once 
 of its detested presence." 
 
 "Upon my word," replied the Doctor, "I admire you 
 cordially. If you do not think I have already meddled 
 sufficiently in your concerns, believe me, from my heart I 
 think the contrary. Take or leave my services as I offer 
 them; and trouble me with no more words of gratitude, 
 for I value your consideration even more lightly than I 
 do your intellect. A time will come, if you should be 
 spared to see a number of years in health and mind, when 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 59 
 
 you will think differently of all this, and blush for your 
 to-night's behavior. ' ' 
 
 So saying, the Doctor arose from his chair, repeated 
 his directions briefly and clearly, Mid departed from the 
 room without permitting Silas any time to answer. 
 
 The next morning Silas presented himself at the hotel, 
 where he was politely received by Colonel Geraldine, and 
 relieved, from that moment, of all immediate alarm about 
 his trunk and its grisly contents. The journey passed over 
 without much incident, although the young man was 
 horrified to overhear the sailors and railway porters com- 
 plaining among themselves about the unusual weight of 
 the Prince's baggage. Silas traveled in a carriage with 
 the valets, for Prince Florizel chose to be alone with his 
 Master of the Horse. On board the steamer, however, 
 Silas attracted his Highness's attention by the melancholy 
 of his air and attitude as he stood gazing at the pile of 
 baggage; for he was still full of disquietude about the 
 future. 
 
 "There is a young man," observed the Prince, "who 
 must have some cause for sorrow." 
 
 "That," replied Geraldine, "is the American for whom 
 I obtained permission to travel with your suite." 
 
 "You remind me that I have been remiss in courtesy," 
 said Prince Florizel, and advancing to Silas, he addressed 
 him with the most exquisite condescension in these words: 
 
 "I was charmed, young sir, to be able to gratify the 
 desire you made known to me through Colonel Geraldine. 
 Remember, if you please, that I shall be glad at any future 
 time to lay you under a more serious obligation." 
 
 And then he put some questions as to the political con- 
 dition of America, which Silas answered with sense and 
 propriety. 
 
 "You are still a young man," said the Prince; "but I 
 
60 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 observe you to be very serious for your years. Perhaps 
 you allow your attention to be too much occupied vs^ith 
 grave studies. But, perhaps, on the other hand, I am 
 myself indiscreet and touch upon a painful subject." 
 
 "I have certainly cause to be the most miserable of 
 men," said Silas; "never has a more innocent person been 
 more dismally abused." 
 
 "I will net ask you for your confidence," returned 
 Prince Florizel. "But do not forget that Colonel Geral- 
 dine's recommendation is an unfailing passport; and that 
 I am not only willing, but possibly more able than many 
 others, to do you a service." 
 
 Silas was delighted with the amiability of this great 
 personage; but his mind soon returned upon its gloomy 
 preoccupations; for not even the favor of a Prince to a 
 Eepublican can discharge a brooding spirit of its cares. 
 
 The train arrived at Charing Cross, where the officers 
 of the Revenue respected the baggage of Prince Florizel 
 in the usual manner. The most elegant equipages were in 
 waiting; and Silas was driven, along with the rest, to the 
 Prince's residence. There Colonel Geraldine sought him 
 out, and expressed himself pleased to have been of any 
 service to a friend of the physician's, for whom he pro- 
 fessed a great consideration. 
 
 "I hope," he added, "that you will find none of your 
 porcelain injured. Special orders were given along the 
 line to deal tenderly with the Prince's effects." 
 
 And then, directing the servants to place one of the 
 carriages at the young gentleman's disposal, and at once 
 to charge the Saratoga trunk upon the dickey, the Colonel 
 shook hands and excused himself on account of his occu- 
 pations in the princely household. 
 
 Silas now broke the seal of the envelope containing the 
 address, and directed the stately footman to drive him to 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 61 
 
 Box Court, opening off the Strand. It seemed as if the 
 place were not at all unknown to the man, for he looked 
 startled and begged a repetition of the order. It was 
 with a heart full of alarms, that Silas mounted into the 
 luxurious vehicle, and was driven to his destination. 
 The entrance to Box Court was too narrow for the passage 
 of a coach; it was a mere footway between railings, with 
 a post at either end. On one of these posts was seated a 
 man, who at once jumped down and exchanged a friendly 
 sign with the driver, while the footman opened the door 
 and inquired of Silas whether he should take down the 
 Saratoga trunk, and to what number it should be carried. 
 
 "If you please," said Silas. "To number three." 
 
 The footman and the man who had been sitting on the 
 post, even with the aid of Silas himself, had hard work 
 to carry in the trunk; and before it was deposited at the 
 door of the house in question, the young American was 
 horrified to find a score of loiterers looking on. But he 
 knocked with as good a countenance as he could muster 
 up, and presented the other envelope to him who opened. 
 
 "He is not at home," said he, "but if you will leave 
 your letter and return to-morrow early, I shall be able to 
 inform you whether and when he can receive your visit. 
 Would you like to leave your box?" he added. 
 
 "Dearly," cried Silas; and the next moment he re- 
 pented his precipitation, and declared, with equal em- 
 phasis, that he would rather carry the box along with him 
 to the hotel. 
 
 The crowd jeered at his indecision and followed him to 
 the carriage with insulting remarks; and Silas, covered 
 with shame and terror, implored the servants to conduct 
 him to some quiet and comfortable house of entertainment 
 in the immediate neighborhood. 
 
 The Prince's equipage deposited Silas at the Craven 
 
62 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 Hotel in Craven Street, and immediately drove away, 
 leaving him alone with the servants of the inn. The only 
 vacant room, it appeared, was a little den up four pairs 
 of stairs, and looking towards the back. To this hermi- 
 tage, with infinite trouble and complaint, a pair of stout 
 porters carried the Saratoga trunk. It is needless to 
 mention that Silas kept closely at their heels throughout 
 the ascent, and had his heart in his mouth at every cor- 
 ner. A single false step, he reflected, and the box might 
 go over the bannisters and land its fatal contents, plainly 
 discovered, on the pavement of the hall. 
 
 Arrived in the room, he sat down on the edge of his 
 bed to recover from the agony that he had just endured; 
 but he had hardly taken his position when he was recalled 
 to a sense of his peril by the action of the boots, who had 
 knelt beside the trunk, and was proceeding officiously to 
 undo its elaborate fastenings. 
 
 "Let it be!" cried Silas. "I shall want nothing from 
 it while I stay here." 
 
 "You might have let it lie in the hall, then," growled 
 the man; "a thing as big and heavy as a church. What 
 you have inside, I cannot fancy. If it is all money, you 
 are a richer man than me." 
 
 "Money?" repeated Silas, in a sudden perturbation. 
 "What do you mean by money? I have no money, and 
 you are speaking like a fool." 
 
 "All right. Captain," retorted the boots with a wink. 
 "There's nobody will touch your lordship's money. I'm 
 as safe as the bank," he added; "but as the box is heavy, 
 I shouldn't mind drinking something to your lordship's 
 health." 
 
 Silas pressed two Napoleons upon his acceptance, apol- 
 ogizing, at the same time, for being obliged to trouble 
 him with foreign money, and pleading his recent arrival 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 63 
 
 for excuse. And the man, grumbling with even greater 
 fervor, and looking contemptuously from the money in his 
 hand to the Saratoga trunk and back again from the one 
 to the other, at last consented to withdraw. 
 
 For nearly two days the dead body had been packed into 
 Silas's box; and as soon as he was alone the unfortunate 
 New-Englander nosed all the cracks and openings with 
 the most passionate attention. But the weather was cool, 
 and the trunk still managed to contain his shocking secret. 
 
 He took a chair beside it, and buried his face in his 
 hands, and his mind in the most profound reflection. If 
 he were not speedily relieved, no question but he must be 
 speedily discovered. Alone in a strange city, without 
 friends or accomplices, if the Doctor's introduction failed 
 him, he was indubitably a lost New-Englander. He re- 
 flected pathetically over his ambitious designs for the 
 future; he should not now become the hero and spokes- 
 man of his native place of Bangor, Maine; he should not, 
 as he had fondly anticipated, move on from office to oflJce, 
 from honor to honor; he might as well divest himself at 
 once of all hope of being acclaimed President of the 
 United States, and leaving behind him a statue, in the 
 worst possible style of art, to adorn the Capitol at Wash- 
 ington. Here he was, chained to a dead Englishman 
 doubled up inside a Saratoga trunk; whom he must get 
 rid of, or perish from the rolls of national glory! 
 
 I should be afraid to chronicle the language employed 
 by this young man to the Doctor, to the murdered man, 
 to Madame Zephyrine, to the boots of the hotel, to the 
 Prince's servants, and, in a word, to all who had been 
 ever so remotely connected with his horrible misfortune. 
 
 He slunk down to dinner about seven at night; but the 
 yellow coffee-room appalled him, the eyes of the other 
 diners seemed to rest on his with suspicion, and his mind 
 
64 NEW AEABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 remained upstairs with the Saratoga trunk. When the 
 waiter came to offer him cheese, his nerves were already 
 so much on edge that he leaped half-way out of his chair 
 and upset the remainder of a pint of ale upon the table- 
 cloth. 
 
 The fellow offered to show him the smoking-room when 
 he had done; and although he would have much preferred 
 to return at once to his perilous treasure, he had not the 
 courage to refuse, and was shown down-stairs to the black, 
 gas-lit cellar, which formed, and possibly still forms, the 
 divan of the Craven Hotel. 
 
 Two very sad betting men were playing billiards, at- 
 tended by a moist, consumptive marker; and for the mo- 
 ment Silas imagined that these were the only occupants of 
 the apartment. But at the next glance his eye fell upon a 
 person smoking in the farthest corner, with lowered eyes 
 and a most respectable and modest aspect. He knew at 
 once that he had seen the face before; and in spite of the 
 entire change of clothes, recognized the man whom he had 
 found seated on a post at the entrance to Box Court, and 
 who had hepled him to carry the trunk to and from the 
 carriage. The New-Englander simply turned and ran, 
 nor did he pause until he had locked and bolted himself 
 into his bedroom. 
 
 There, all night long, a prey to the most terrible imagi- 
 nations, he watched beside the fatal boxful of dead flesh. 
 The suggestion of the boots that his trunk was full of gold 
 inspired him with all manner of new terrors, if he so 
 much as dared to close an eye; and the presence in the 
 smoking-room, and under an obvious disguise, of the 
 loiterer from Box Court convinced him that he was once 
 more the centre of obscure machination. 
 
 Midnight had sounded some time, when, impelled by 
 uneasy suspicions, Silas opened his bedroom door and 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 65 
 
 peered into the passage. It was dimly illuminated by a 
 single jet of gas; and some distance off he perceived a 
 man sleeping on the floor in the costume of an hotel 
 under-servant. Silas drew near the man on tip-toe. He 
 lay partly on his back, partly on his side, and his right 
 forearm concealed his face from recognition. Suddenly, 
 while the American was still bending over him, the sleeper 
 removed his arm and opened his eyes and Siias found 
 himself once more face to face with the loiterer of Box 
 Court. 
 
 "Good night, sir," said the man, pleasantly. 
 
 But Silas was too profoundly moved to find an answer, 
 and regained his room in silence. 
 
 Towards morning, worn 6ut by apprehension, he fell 
 asleep on his chair, with his head forward on the trunk. 
 In spite of so constrained an attitude and such a grisly 
 pillow, his slumber was sound and prolonged, and he was 
 only awakened at a late hour and by a sharp tapping at 
 the door. 
 
 He hurried to open, and found the boots without. 
 
 ' 'You are the gentleman who called yesterday at Box 
 Court?" he asked. 
 
 Silas, with a quaver, admitted that he had done so. 
 
 "Then this note is for you," added the servant, proffer- 
 ing a sealed envelope. 
 
 Silas tore it open, and found inside the words: "Twelve 
 o'clock." 
 
 He was punctual to the hour; the trunk was carriedlbe- 
 fore him by several stout servants; and he was himself 
 ushered into a room, where a man sat warming himself 
 before the fire with his back towards the door. The sound 
 of so many persons entering and leaving, and the scraping 
 of the trunk as it was deposited upon the bare boards, 
 were alike unable to attract the notice of the occupant; 
 
66 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 and Silas stood waiting, in an agony of fear, until he 
 should deign to recognize his presence. 
 
 Perhaps five minutes had elapsed before the man turned 
 leisurely about, and disclosed the features of Prince Flor- 
 izel of Bohemia. 
 
 "So, sir," he said with great severity, "this is the 
 manner in which you abuse my politeness. You join 
 yourselves to persons of condition, I perceive, for no other 
 purpose than to escape the consequences of your crimes; 
 and I can readily understand your embarrassment when I 
 addressed myself to you yesterday." 
 
 "Indeed," cried Silas, "I am innocent of everything 
 except misfortune." 
 
 And in a hurried voice, and with the greatest ingenu- 
 ousness, he recounted to the Prince the whole history of 
 his calamity. 
 
 "I see I have been mistaken," said his Highness, when 
 he had heard him to an end. ' 'You are no other than a 
 victim, and since I am not to punish you, you may be 
 sure I shall do my utmost to help. And now," he con- 
 tinued, ' 'to business. Open your box at once, and let me 
 see what it contains." 
 
 Silas changed color. 
 
 "I almost fear to look upon it," he exclaimed. 
 
 "Nay," replied the Prince, "have you not looked at it 
 already? This is a form of sentimentality to be resisted. 
 The sight of a sick man, whom we can still help, should 
 appeal more directly to the feelings than that of a dead 
 man who is equally beyond help or harm, love or hatred. 
 Nerve yourself, Mr. Scuddamore," and then, seeing that 
 Silas still hesitated, "I do not desire to give another 
 name to my request, ' ' he added. 
 
 The young American awoke as if out of a dream, and 
 with a shiver of repugnance addressed himself to loose 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 67 
 
 the straps and open the lock of the Saratoga trunk. The 
 Prince stood by, watching with a composed countenance 
 and his hands behind his back. The body was quite stiff, 
 and it cost Silas a great effort, both moral and physical, 
 to dislodge it from its position, and discover the face. 
 
 Prince Florizel started back with an exclamation of 
 painful surprise. 
 
 "Alas!" he cried, "you little know, Mr. Scuddamore, 
 what a cruel gift you have brought me. This is a young 
 man of my own suite, the brother of my trusted friend ; 
 and it was upon matters of my own service that he has 
 thus perished at the hands of violent and treacherous men. 
 Poor Geraldine," he went on, as if to himself, "in what 
 words am I to tell you of your brother's fate? How can I 
 excuse myself in your eyes, or in the eyes of God, for the 
 presumptuous schemes that led him to this bloody and 
 unnatural death? Ah, Florizel ! Florizel ! when will you 
 learn the discretion that suits mortal life, and be no 
 longer dazzled with the image of power at your disposal? 
 Power!" he cried; "who is more powerless? I look upon 
 this young man whom I have sacrificed, Mr. Scuddamore, 
 and feel how small a thing it is to be a Prince. ' ' 
 
 Silas was moved at the sight of his emotion. He tried 
 to murmur some consolatory words, and burst into tears. 
 The Prince, touched by his obvious intention, came up to 
 him and took him by the hand. 
 
 "Command yourself," said he. "We have both much 
 to learn, and we shall both be better men for to-day's 
 meeting." 
 
 Silas thanked him in silence with an affectionate look. 
 
 ' 'Write me the address of Doctor Noel on this piece of 
 paper," continued the Prince, leading him towards the 
 table; "and let me recommend you, when you are again 
 in Paris, to avoid the society of that dangerous man. He 
 
68 new" ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 has acted in this matter on a generous inspiration; that 1 
 must believe; had he been privy to young Geraldine's 
 death he would never have despatched the body to the 
 care of the actual criminal." 
 
 "The actual criminal!" repeated Silas in astonishment. 
 
 "Even so," returned the Prince. "This letter, which 
 the disposition of Almighty Providence has so strangely 
 delivered into my hands, was addressed to no less a person 
 than the criminal himself, the infamous President of the 
 Suicide Club. Seek to pry no further in these perilous 
 affairs, but content yourself with your own miraculous 
 escape, and leave this house at once. I have pressing 
 affairs, and must arrange at once about this poor clay, 
 which was so lately a gallant and handsome youth." 
 
 Silas took a grateful and submissive leave of Prince 
 Florizel, but he lingered in Box Court until he saw him 
 depart in a splendid carriage on a visit to Colonel Hen- 
 derson of the police. Republican as he was, the young 
 American took off his hat with almost a sentiment of de- 
 votion to the retreating carriage. And the same night 
 he started by rail on his return to Paris. 
 
 Here (observes my Arabian Author) is the end of The 
 History of the Physician and the Saratoga Trunk. 
 Omitting some reflections on the power of Providence, 
 highly pertinent in the original, hut little suited to our 
 occidental taste, I shall only add that Mr. Scuddamore 
 has already begun to mount the ladder of political fame, 
 and by last advices was the Sheriff of his native town. 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 69 
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF THE HANSOM CAB 
 
 Lieutenant Brackenbury Rich had greatly distinguished 
 himself in one of the lesser Indian hill wars. He it was 
 who took the chieftain prisoner with his own hand ; his 
 gallantry was universally applauded; and when he came 
 home, prostrated by an \igly sabre cut and a protracted 
 jungle fever, society was prepared to welcome the Lieu- 
 tenant as a celebrity of minor luster. But his was a 
 character remarkable for unaffected modesty; adventure 
 was dear to his heart, but he cared little for adulation; 
 and he waited at foreign watering-places and in Algiers 
 until the fame of his exploits had run through its nine 
 day's vitality and begun to be forgotten. He arrived in 
 London at last, in the early season, with as little observa- 
 tion as he could desire; and as he was an orphan and had 
 none but distant relatives who lived in the provinces, it 
 was almost as a foreigner that he installed himself in the 
 capital of the country for which he had shed his blood. 
 
 On the day following his arrival he dined alone at a 
 military club. He shook hands with a few old comrades, 
 and received their congratulations; but as one and all had 
 some engagement for the evening, he found himself left 
 entirely to his own resources. He was in dress, for he 
 had entertained the notion of visiting a theatre. But the 
 great city was new to him; he had gone from a provincial 
 school to a military cbllege, and thence direct to the 
 Eastern Empire; and he promised himself a variety of 
 delights in this world for exploration. Swinging his 
 cane, he took his way westward. It was a mild evening, 
 already dark, and now and then threatening rain. The 
 succession of faces in the lamplight stirred the Lieuten- 
 ant's imagination; and it seemed to him as if he could 
 
70 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 walk forever in that stimulating city atmosphere and 
 surrounded by the mystery of four million private lives. 
 He glanced at the houses, and marvelled what was passing 
 behind those warmly-lighted windows; he looked into 
 face after face, and saw them each intent upon some un- 
 known interest, criminal or kindly. 
 
 "They talk of war," he thought, "but this is the great 
 battlefield of mankind." 
 
 And then he began to wonder that he should walk so 
 long in this complicated scene, and not chance upon so 
 much as the shadow of an adventure for himself. 
 
 ' 'All in good time, ' ' he reflected. "I am still a stranger, 
 and perhaps wear a strange air. But I must be drawn 
 into the eddy before long." 
 
 The night was already well advanced, when a plump of 
 cold rain fell suddenly out of the darkness. Brackenbury 
 paused under some trees, and as he did so he caught sight 
 of a hansom cabman making him a sign that he was dis- 
 engaged. The circumstance fell in so happily to the 
 occasion that he at once raised his cane in answer, and 
 had soon ensconced himself in the London gondola. 
 
 "Where to, sir?" asked the driver. 
 
 "Where you please," said Brackenbury. 
 
 And immediately, at a pace of surprising swiftness, 
 the hansom drove off through the rain into a maze of 
 villas. One villa was so like another, each with its front 
 garden, and there was so little to distinguish the deserted 
 lamp-lit streets and crescents through which the flying 
 hansom took its way, that Brackenbury soon lost all idea 
 of direction. He would have been contented to believe 
 that the cabman was amusing himself by driving him 
 round and round and in and out about a small quarter, 
 but there was something businesslike in the speed which 
 convinced him of the contrary. The man had an object in 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 71 
 
 view, he was hastening towards a definite end; and Brack- 
 enbury was at cnce astonished at the fellow's skill in 
 picking a way through such a labyrinth, and a little con- 
 cerned to imagine what was the occasion of his hurry. 
 He had heard tales of strangers falling ill in London. 
 Did the driver belong to some bloody and treacherous 
 association? and was he himself being whirled to a mur- 
 derous death? 
 
 The thought had scarcely presented itself, when the cab 
 swung sharply round a corner and pulled up before the 
 garden gate of a villa in a long and wide road. The house 
 was brilliantly lighted up. Another hansom had just 
 driven away, and Brackenbury could see a gentleman be- 
 ing admitted at the front door and received by several 
 liveried servants. He was surprised that the cabman 
 should have stopped so immediately in front of a house 
 where a reception was being held; but he did not doubt 
 it was the result of accident, and sat placidly smoking 
 where he was, until he heard the trap thrown open over 
 his head. 
 
 "Here we are, sir," said the driver. 
 
 "Here!" repeated Brackenbury. "Where?" 
 
 "You told me to take you where I pleased, sir," re- 
 turned the man with a chuckle, "and here we are." 
 
 It struck Brackenbury that the voice was wonderfully 
 smooth and courteous for a man in so inferior a position; 
 he remembered the speed at which he had been driven; 
 and now it occurred to him that the hansom was more 
 luxuriously appointed than the common run of public 
 conveyances. 
 
 "I must ask you to explain," said he. "Do you mean 
 to turn me out into the rain? My good man, I suspect 
 the choice is mine. ' ' 
 
 "The choice is certainly yours," replied the driver; 
 
72 NEW ABABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "but when I tell you all, I believe I know how a gentle- 
 man of your figure will decide. There is a gentlemen's 
 party in this house. I do not know whether the master 
 be a stranger to London and without acquaintances of his 
 own; or whether he is a man of odd notions. But cer- 
 tainly I was hired to kidnap single gentlemen in evening 
 dress, as many as I pleased, but military officers by pref- 
 erence. You have simply to go in and say that Mr. 
 Morris invited you." 
 
 "Are you Mr. Morris?" inquired the Lieutenant. 
 
 "Oh, no," replied the cabman. "Mr. Morris is the 
 person of the house." 
 
 "It is not a common way of collecting guests," said 
 Brackenbury; "but an eccentric man might very well in- 
 dulge the whim without any intention to offend. And 
 suppose that I refuse Mr. Morris's invitation," he went 
 on, "what then?" 
 
 "My orders are to drive you back where I took you 
 from," replied the man, "and set out to look for others 
 up to midnight. Those who have no fancy for such an 
 adventure, Mr. Morris said, were not the guests for him. " 
 
 These words decided the Lieutenant on the spot. 
 
 "After all," he reflected, as he descended from the 
 hansom, "I have not had long to wait for my adventure. " 
 
 He had hardly found footing on the sidewalk, and was 
 still feeling in his pocket for the fare, when the cab swung 
 about and drove off by the way it came at the former 
 breakneck velocity. Brackenbury shouted after the man, 
 who paid no heed, and continued to drive away; but the 
 sound of his voice was overheard in the house, the door 
 was again thrown open, emitting a flood of light upon 
 the garden, and a servant ran down to meet him holding 
 an umbrella. 
 
 "The cabman has been paid," observed the servant in 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 73 
 
 a very civil tone; and he proceeded to escort Brackenbury 
 along the path and up the steps. In the hall several other 
 attendants relieved him of his hat, cane, and paletot, gave 
 him a ticket with a number in return, and politely hur- 
 ried him up a stair adorned with tropical flowers, to the 
 door of an apartment on the first story. Here a grave 
 butler inquired his name, and announcing "Lieutenant 
 Brackenbury Rich, ' ' ushered him into the drawing-room 
 of the house. 
 
 A young man, slender and singularly handsome, came 
 forward and greeted him with an air at once courtly and 
 affectionate. Hundreds of candles, of the finest wax, lit 
 up a room that was perfumed, li^e the staircase, with a 
 profusion of rare and beautiful flowering shrubs. A 
 side-table was loaded with tempting viands. Several 
 servants went to and fro with fruits and goblets of cham- 
 pagne. The company was perhaps sixteen in number, all 
 men, few beyond the prime of life, and with hardly an 
 exception, of a dashing and capable exterior. They were 
 divided into two groups, one about a roulette board, and 
 the other surrounding a table at which one of their 
 number held a bank of baccarat. 
 
 "I see," thought Brackenbury, "I am in a private 
 gambling saloon, and the cabman was a tout." 
 
 His eye had embraced the details, and his mind formed 
 the conclusion, while his host was still holding him by the 
 hand; and to him his looks returned from this rapid sur- 
 vey. At a second view Mr. Morris surprised him still 
 more than on the first. The easy elegance of his manners, 
 the distinction, amiability, and courage that appeared 
 upon his features, fitted very ill with the Lieutenant's 
 preconceptions on the subject of the proprietor of a hell; 
 and the tone of his conversation seemed to mark, him out 
 for a man of position and merit. Brackenbury found he 
 
74 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 had an instinctive liking for his entertainer; and though 
 he chid himself for the weakness he was unable to resist 
 a sort of friendly attraction for Mr. Morris's person and 
 character. 
 
 "I have heard of you, Lieutenant Rich," said Mr. 
 Morris, lowering his tone; "and believe me I am gratified 
 to make your acquaintance. Your looks accord with the 
 reputation that has preceded you from India. And if you 
 will forget for a while the irregularity of your presenta- 
 tion in my house, I shall feel it not only an honor, but 
 genuine pleasure besides. A man who makes a mouthful 
 of barbarian cavaliers," he added with a laugh, "should 
 not be appalled by a breach of etiquette, however serious. ' ' 
 
 And he led him towards the sideboard and pressed him 
 to partake of some refreshments. 
 
 "Upon my word," the Lieutenant reflected, "this is 
 one of the pleasantest fellows and, I do not doubt, one of 
 the most agreeable societies in London. ' ' 
 
 He partook of some champagne, which he found excel- 
 lent; and observing that many of the company were 
 already smoking, he lit one of his own Manillas, and 
 strolled up to the roulette board, where he sometimes 
 made a stake and sometimes looked on smilingly on the 
 fortune of others. It was while he was thus idling that 
 he became aware of a sharp scrutiny to which the whole 
 of the guests were subjected. Mr. Morris went here and 
 there, ostensibly busied on hospitable concerns; but he 
 had ever a shrewd glance at disposal; not a man of the 
 party escaped his sudden, searching looks; he took stock 
 of the bearing of heavy losers, he valued the amount of 
 the stakes, he paused behind couples who were deep in 
 conversation; and, in a word, there was hardly a charac- 
 teristic of anyone present but he seemed to catch and 
 make a note of it. Brackenbury began to wonder if this 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 75 
 
 were indeed a gambling hell : it had so much the air of a 
 private inquisition. He followed Mr. Morris in all his 
 movements; and although the man had a ready smile, he 
 seemed to perceive, as it were under a mask, a haggard, 
 careworn, and preoccupied spirit. The fellows around 
 him laughed and made their game; but Brackenbury had 
 lost interest in the guests. 
 
 "This Morris," thought he, "is no idler in the room. 
 Some deep purpose inspires him; let it be mine to 
 fathom it." 
 
 Now and then Mr. Morris would call one of his visitors 
 aside ; and after a brief colloquy in an ante-room, he would 
 return alone, and the visitors in question reappeared no 
 more. After a certain number of repetitions, this per- 
 formance excited Brackenbury's curiosity to a high de- 
 gree. He determined to be at the bottom of this minor 
 mystery at once; and strolling into the ante-room, found 
 a deep window recess concealed by curtains of the fash- 
 ionable green. Here he hurriedly ensconced himself; nor 
 had he to wait long before the sound of steps and voices 
 drew near him from the principal apartment. Peering 
 through the division, he saw Mr. Morris escorting a fat 
 and ruddy personage, with somewhat the look of a com- 
 mercial traveler, whom Brackenbury had already remarked 
 for his coarse laugh and underbred behavior at the table. 
 The pair halted immediately before the window, so that 
 Brackenbury lost not a word of the following discourse: 
 
 "I beg you a thousand pardons!" began Mr. Morris, 
 with the most conciliatory manner; "and, if I appear 
 rude, I am sure you will readily forgive me. In a place so 
 great as London accidents must continually happen; and 
 the best that we can hope is to remedy them with as small 
 delay as possible. I will not deny that I fear you have 
 made a mistake and honored my poor house by inadvert- 
 
76 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 ence; for, to speak openly, I cannot at all remember your 
 appearance. Let me put the question without unnecessary 
 circumlocution — ^between gentlemen of honor a word will 
 suffice — Under whose roof do you suppose yourself to 
 be?" 
 
 "That of Mr. Morris," replied the other, with a prodig- 
 ious display of confusion, which had been visibly growing 
 upon him throughout the last few words. 
 
 "Mr. John or Mr. James Morris?" inquired the host. 
 
 "I really cannot tell you," returned the unfortunate 
 guest. "I am not personally acquainted with the gentle- 
 men, any more than I am with yourself." 
 
 "I see," said Mr. Morris. "There is another person of 
 the same name farther down the street; and I have no 
 doubt the policeman will be able to supply you with his 
 number. Believe me, I felicitate myself on the misun- 
 derstanding which has procured me the pleasure of your 
 company for so long; and let me express a hope that we 
 may meet again upon a more regular footing. Mean- 
 time, I would not for the world detain you longer from 
 your friends. John," he added, raising his voice, "will 
 you see that the gentleman finds his great-coat?" 
 
 And with the most agreeable air Mr. Morris escorted 
 his visitor as far as the ante-room door, where he left 
 him under conduct of the butler. As he passed the win- 
 dow, on his return to the drawing-room, Brackenbury 
 could hear him utter a profound sigh, as though his mind 
 was loaded with a great anxiety, and his nerves already 
 fatigued with the task on which he was engaged. 
 
 For perhaps an hour the hansoms kept arriving with 
 such frequency, that Mr. Morris had to receive a new 
 guest for every old one that he sent away, and the com- 
 pany preserved its number undiminished. But towards 
 the end of that time the arrivals grew few and far be- 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 77 
 
 tween, and at length ceased entirely, while the process of 
 elimination was continued with unimpaired activity. The 
 drawing-ro'om began to look empty: the baccarat was dis- 
 continued for lack of a banker; more than one person said 
 good-night of his own accord, and was suffered to depart 
 without expostulation: and in the meanwhile Mr. Morris 
 redoubled in agreeable attentions to those who stayed be- 
 hind. He went from group to group and from person to 
 person with looks of the readiest sympathy and the most 
 pertinent and pleasing talk; he was not so much like a 
 host as like a hostess, and there was a feminine coquetry 
 and condescension in his manner which charmed the hearts 
 of all. 
 
 As the guests grew thinner. Lieutenant Rich strolled 
 for a moment out of the drawing-room into the hall in 
 quest of fresher air. But he had no sooner passed the 
 threshold of the ante-chamber than he was brought to a 
 dead halt by a discovery of the most surprising nature. 
 The flowering shrubs had disappeared from the staircase; 
 three large furniture wagons stood before the garden 
 gate; the servants were busy dismantling the house upon 
 all sides; and some of them had already donned their 
 great-coats and were preparing to depart. It was like the 
 end of a country ball, where everything has been supplied 
 by contract. Brackenbury had indeed some matter for 
 reflection. First, the guests, who were no real guests 
 after all, had been dismissed; and'now the servants, who 
 could hardly be genuine servants, were actively dispersing. 
 
 "Was the whole establishment a sham?" he asked him- 
 self. "The mushroom of a single night which should 
 disappear before morning?" 
 
 Watching a favorable opportunity, Brackenbury dashed 
 upstairs to the higher regions of the house. It was as he 
 had expected. He ran from room to room, and saw not a 
 
78 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 stick of furniture nor so much as a picture on the walls. 
 Although the house had been painted and papered, it was 
 not only uninhabited at present, but plainly had never 
 been inhabited at all. The young officer remembered 
 with astonishment its specious, settled, and hospitable 
 air on his arrival. It was only at a prodigious cost that 
 the imposture could have been carried out upon so great 
 a scale. 
 
 Who, then, was Mr. Morris? What was his intention 
 in thus playing the householder for a single night in the 
 remote west of London? And why did he collect his 
 visitors at hazard from the streets? 
 
 Brackenbury remembered that he had already delayed 
 too long, and hastened to join the company. Many had 
 left during his absence; and counting the Lieutenant and 
 his host, there were not more than five persons in the 
 drawing-room — recently so thronged. Mr. Morris greeted 
 him, as he re-entered the apartment, with a smile, and 
 immediately rose to his feet. 
 
 "It is now time, gentlemen," said he, "to explain my 
 purpose in decoying you from your amusements. I trust 
 you did not find the evening hang very dully on your 
 hands; but my object, I will confess it, was not to enter- 
 tain your leisure, but to help myself in an unfortunate 
 necessity. You are all gentlemen," he continued, "your 
 appearance does you that much justice, and I ask for no 
 better security. Hence, I speak it without concealment, 
 I ask you to render me a dangerous and delicate service; 
 dangerous because you may run the hazard of your lives, 
 and delicate because I must ask an absolute discretion 
 upon all that you shall see or hear. From an utter stranger 
 the request is almost comically extravagant; I am well 
 aware of this; and I would add at once, if there be anyone 
 present who has heard enough, if there be one among the 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 79 
 
 party who recoils from a dangerous confidence and a piece 
 of Quixotic devotion to he knows not whom — here is my 
 hand ready, and I shall wish him good night and God- 
 speed, with all the sincerity in the world." 
 
 A very tall, black man, with a heavy stoop, immediately 
 responded to this appeal. 
 
 "I commend your frankness, sir," said he; "and, for 
 my part, I go. I make no reflections; but I cannot deny 
 that you fill me with suspicious thoughts. I go myself, 
 as I say; and perhaps you will think I have no right to 
 add words to my example." 
 
 "On the contrary," replied Mr. Morris, "I am obliged 
 to you for all you say. It would be impossible to exag- 
 gerate the gravity of my proposal." 
 
 "Well, gentlemen, what do you say?" said the tall 
 man, addressing the others. ' 'We have had our evening's 
 frolic; shall we go homeward peaceably in a body? You 
 will think well of my suggestion in the morning, when 
 you see the sun again in innocence and safety." 
 
 The speaker pronounced the last words with an intona- 
 tion which added to their force; and his face wore a 
 singular expression, full of gravity and significance. 
 Another of the company rose hastily, and, with some 
 appearance of alarm, prepared to take his leave. There 
 were only two who held their ground, Brackenbury and 
 an old red-nosed cavalry Major; but these two preserved 
 a nonchalant demeanor, and, beyond a look of intelligence 
 which they rapidly exchanged, appeared entirely foreign 
 to the discussion that had just been terminated. 
 
 Mr. Morris conducted the deserters as far as the door, 
 which he closed upon their heels; then he turned round 
 disclosing a countenance of mingled relief and animation, 
 and addressed the two oflScers as follows: 
 
 "I have chosen my men like Joshua in the Bible," said 
 
80 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 Mr. Morris, "and I now believe I have the pick of Lon- 
 don. Your appearance pleased my hansom cabmen; then 
 it delighted me; I have watched your behavior in a strange 
 company, and under the most unusual circumstances: I 
 have studied how you played and how you bore your 
 losses; lastly, I have put you to the test of a staggering 
 announcement, and you received it like an invitation to 
 dinner. It is not for nothing," he cried, "that I have 
 been for years the companion and the pupil of the bravest 
 and wisest potentate in Europe." 
 
 "At the affair of Bunderchang, " observed the Major, 
 "I asked for twelve volunteers, and every trooper in the 
 ranks replied to my appeal. But a gaming party is not 
 the same thing as a regiment under fire. You may be 
 pleased, I suppose, to have found two, and two who will 
 not fail you at a push. As for the pair who ran away, I 
 count them among the most pitiful hounds I ever met 
 with. Lieutenant Rich," he added, addressing Bracken- 
 bury, "I have heard much of you of late; and I cannot 
 doubt but you have also heard of me. I am Major 
 O'Rooke." 
 
 And the veteran tendered his hand, which was red and 
 tremulous, to the young Lieutenant. 
 
 "Who has not?" answered Brackenbury. 
 
 "When this little matter is settled," said Mr. Morris, 
 "you will think I have sufficiently rewarded you; for I 
 could offer neither a more valuable service than to make 
 him acquainted with the other." 
 
 "And now," said Major O'Rooke, "is it a duel?" 
 
 "A duel after a fashion," replied Mr. Morris, "a duel 
 with unknown and dangerous enemies, and, as I gravely 
 fear, a duel to the death. I must ask you, ' ' he continued, 
 "to call me Morris no longer; call me, if you please, 
 Hammersmith; my real name, as well as that of another 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 81 
 
 person to whom I hope to present you before long, you 
 will gratify me by not asking and not seeking to discovcT 
 for yourselves. Three days ago the person of whom I 
 speak disappeared suddenly from home; and, until thiis 
 morning, I received no hint of his situation. You will 
 fancy my alarm when I tell you that he is engaged upon 
 a work of private justice. Bound by an unhappy oath, 
 too lightly sworn, he finds it necessary, without the help 
 of law, to rid the earth of an insidious and bloody villain. 
 Already two of our friends, and one of them my own born 
 brother, have perished in the enterprise. He himself, or 
 I am much deceived, is taken in the same fatal toilR. 
 But at least he still lives and still hopes, as this billot 
 sufficiently proves. ' ' 
 
 And the speaker, no other than Colonel Geraldine, 
 proffered a letter, thus conceived : 
 
 "Major Hammersmith: — On Wednesday, at 3 A. M., 
 you will be admitted by the small door to the gardens of 
 Rochester House, Regent's Park, by a man who is entirely 
 in my interest. I must request you not to fail me by a 
 second. Pray bring my case of swords, and, if you can 
 find them, one or two gentlemen of conduct and discre- 
 tion to whom my person is unknown. My name must not 
 be used in this affair. 
 
 "T. GODALL." 
 
 "From his wisdom alone, if he had no other title," 
 pursued Colonel Geraldine, when the others had each sat- 
 isfied his curiosity, "my friend is a man whose directions 
 should implicitly be followed. I need not tell you, there- 
 fore, that I have not so much as visited the neighborhood 
 of Rochester House; and that I am still as wholly in the 
 dark as either of yourselves as to the nature of my friend's 
 dilemma. I betook myself, as soon as I had received this 
 order, to a furnishing contractor, and, in a few hours, 
 
82 NEW AKABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 the house in which we now are had assumed its late air of 
 festival. My scheme was at least original; and I am far 
 from regretting an action which has procured me the 
 services of Major O'Rooke and Lieutenant Brackenbury 
 Rich. But the servants in the street will have a strange 
 awakening. The house which this evening was full of 
 lights and visitors they will find uninhabited and for sale 
 to-morrow morning. Thus even the most serious con- 
 cerns," added the Colonel, "have a merry side." 
 
 "And let us add a merry ending," said Brackenbury. 
 
 The Colonel consulted his watch. 
 
 "It is now hard on two," he said. "We have an hour 
 before us, and a swift cab is at the door. Tell me if I 
 may count upon your help." 
 
 "During along life," replied Major O'Rooke, "I never 
 took back my hand from anything, nor so much as hedged 
 abet." 
 
 Brackenbury signified his readiness in the most becom- 
 ing terms; and after they had drunk a glass or two of 
 wine, the Colonel gave each of them a loaded revolver, 
 and the three mounted into the cab and drove off for the 
 address in question. 
 
 Rochester House was a magnificent residence on the 
 banks of the canal. The large extent of the garden isolated 
 it in an unusual degree from the annoyances of neighbor- 
 hood.' It seemed the pare aux cerfs of some great noble- 
 man or millionaire. As far as could be seen from the 
 street, there was not a glimmer of light in any of the 
 numerous windows of the mansion; and the place had a 
 look of neglect, as though the master had been long from 
 home. 
 
 The cab was discharged, and the three gentlemen were 
 not long in discovering the small door, which was a sort 
 of postern in a lane between two garden walls. It still 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 83 
 
 wanted ten or fifteen minutes of the appointed time; the 
 rain fell heavily, and the adventurers sheltered themselves 
 below some pendent ivy, and spoke in low tones of the 
 approaching trial. 
 
 Suddenly Geraldine raised his finger to command si- 
 lence, and all three bent their hearing to the utmost. 
 Through the continuous noise of the rain, the steps and 
 voices of two men became audible from the other side of 
 the wall; and, as they drew nearer, Brackenbury, whose 
 sense of hearing was remarkably acute, could even dis- 
 tinguish some fragments of their talk. 
 
 "Is the grave dug?" asked one. 
 
 "It is," replied the other; "behind the laurel hedge. 
 When the job is done, we can cover it with a pile of 
 stakes. ' ' 
 
 The first speaker laughed, and the sound of his merri- 
 ment was shocking to the listeners on the other side. 
 
 "In an hour from now," he said. 
 
 And by the sound of the steps it was obvious that the 
 pair had separated, and were proceeding in contrary 
 directions. 
 
 Almost immediately after the postern door was cau- 
 tiously opened, a white face was protruded into the lane, 
 and a hand was seen beckoning to the watchers. In dead 
 silence the three passed the door, which was immediately 
 locked behind them^ and followed their guide through 
 several garden alleys to the kitchen entrance of the house. 
 A single candle burned in the great paved kitchen, which 
 was destitute of the customary furniture; and as the party 
 proceeded to ascend from thence by a flight of winding 
 stairs, a prodigious noise of rats testified still more 
 plainly to the dilapidation of the house. 
 
 Their conductor preceded them, carrying the candle. 
 He was a lean man, much bent, but still agile; and he 
 
84 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 turned from time to time and admonished silence and 
 caution by his gestures. Colonel Geraldine followed on 
 his heels, the case of swords under one arm, and a pistol 
 ready in the other. Brackenbury's heart beat thickly. 
 He perceived that they were still in time; but he judged 
 from the alacrity of the old man that the hour of action 
 must be near at hand; the circumstances of this adventure 
 were so obscure and menacing, the place seemed so well 
 chosen for the darkest acts, that an older man than Brack- 
 enbury might have been pardoned a measure of emotion 
 as he closed the procession up the winding stair. 
 
 At the top the guide threw open a door and ushered the 
 three officers before him into a small apartment, lighted 
 by a smoky lamp and the glow of a modest fire. At the 
 chimney corner sat a man in the early prime of life, and 
 of a stout but courtly and commanding appearance. His 
 attitude and expression were those of the most unmoved 
 composure; he was smoking a cheroot with much enjoy- 
 ment and deliberation, and on a table by his elbow stood 
 a long glass of some effervescing beverage which diffused 
 an agreeable odor through the room. 
 
 "Welcome," said he, extending his hand to Colonel 
 Geraldine. "I knew I might count on your exactitude." 
 
 "On my devotion," replied the Colonel, with a bow. 
 
 "Present me to your friends, " continued the first; and, 
 when that ceremony had been performed, "I wish, gentle- 
 men," he added, with the most exquisite affability, "that 
 I could offer you a more cheerful programme; it is un- 
 gracious to inaugurate an acquaintance upon serious 
 affairs; but the compulsion of events is stronger than the 
 obligations of good-fellowship. I hope and believe you 
 will be able to forgive me this unpleasant evening; and 
 for men of your stamp it will be enough to know that you 
 are conferring a considerable favor. ' ' 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 85 
 
 "Your Highness," said the Major, "must pardon my 
 bluntness. I am unable to hide what I know. For some 
 time back I have suspected Major Hammersmith, but 
 Mr. Godall is unmistakable. To seek two men in London 
 un&cquainted with Prince Florizel of Bohemia was to 
 ask too much at Fortune's hands." 
 
 "Prince Florizel!" cried Brackenbury in amazement. 
 
 And he gazed with the deepest interest on the features 
 of the celebrated personage before him. 
 
 ' 'I shall not lament the loss of my incognito, ' ' remarked 
 the Prince, "for it enables me to thank you with the 
 more authority. You would have done as much for Mr. 
 Godall, I feel sure, as for the Prince of Bohemia; but ttie 
 latter can perhaps do more for you. The gain is mine, ' ' 
 he added, with a courteous gesture. 
 
 And the next moment he was conversing with the two 
 officers about the Indian army and the native troops, a 
 subject on which, as on all others, he had a remarkable 
 fund of information and the soundest views. 
 
 There was something so striking in this man's attitude 
 at a moment of deadly peril that Brackenbury was over- 
 come with respectful admiration; nor was he less sensible 
 to the charm of his conversation or the surprising amenity 
 of his address. Every gesture, every intonation, was not 
 only noble in itself, but seemed to ennoble the fortunate 
 mortal for whom it was intended; and Brackenbury con- 
 fessed to himself with enthusiasm that this was a sovereign 
 for whom a brave man might thankfully lay down his life. 
 
 Many minutes had thus passed, when the person who 
 had introduced them into the house, and who had sat ever 
 since in a corner, and with his watch in his hand, arose 
 and whispered a word into the Prince's ear. 
 
 "It is well. Dr. Noel," replied Florizel, aloud; and 
 then addressing the others, "You will excuse me, gentle- 
 
86 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 men," he added, "if I have to leave you in the dark. The 
 moment now approaches." 
 
 Dr. Noel extinguished the lamp. A faint, gray light, 
 premonitory of the dawn, illuminated the window, but 
 was not sufficient to illuminate the room; and when the 
 Prince rose to his feet, it was impossible to distinguish 
 his features or to make a guess at the nature of the emo- 
 tion which obviously affected him as he spoke. He moved 
 towards the door, and placed himself at one side of it in 
 an attitude of the wariest attention. 
 
 "You will have the kindness, " he said, "to maintain 
 the strictest silence, and to conceal yourselves in the 
 densest of the shadow. ' ' 
 
 The three officers and the physician hastened to obey, 
 and for nearly ten minutes the only sound in Rochester 
 House was occasioned by the excursions of the rats behind 
 the woodwork. At the end of that period, a loud creak of 
 a hinge broke in with surprising distinctness on the 
 silence; and shortly after, the watchers could distinguish 
 a slow and cautious tread approaching up the kitchen 
 stair. At every second step the intruder seemed to pause 
 and lend an ear, and during these intervals, which seemed 
 of an incalculable duration, a profound disquiet possessed 
 the spirit of the listeners. Dr. Noel, accustomed as he 
 was to dangerous emotions, suffered an almost pitiful 
 physical prostration; his breath whistled in his lungs, his 
 teeth grated one upon another, and his joints cracked 
 aloud as he nervously shifted his position. 
 
 At last a hand was laid upon the door, and the bolt shot 
 back with a slight report. There followed another pause, 
 during which Brackenbiiry could see the Prince draw 
 himself together noiselessly as if for some unusual exer- 
 tion. Then the door opened, letting in a little more of 
 the light of the morning; and the figure of a man ap- 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 87 
 
 peared upon the threshold and stood motionless. He was 
 tall, and carried a knife in his hand. Even in the twilight 
 they could see his upper teeth bare and glistening, for his 
 mouth was open like that of a hound about to leap. The 
 man had evidently been over the head in water but a 
 minute or two before; and even while he stood there the 
 drops kept falling from his wet clothes and pattered on 
 the floor. 
 
 The next moment he crossed the threshold. There was 
 a leap, a stifled cry, an instantaneous struggle; and before 
 Colonel Geraldine could spring to his aid, the Prince held 
 the man,, disarmed and helpless, by the shoulders. 
 
 "Dr. Noel," he said, "you will be so good as to relight 
 the lamp. ' ' 
 
 And relinquishing the charge of his prisoner to Geral- 
 dine and Blackenbury, he crossed the room and set his 
 back against the chimney-piece. As soon as the lamp 
 had kindled, the party beheld an unaccustomed sternness 
 on the Prince's features. It was no longer Florizel, the 
 careless gentleman; it was the Prince of Bohemia, justly 
 incensed and full of deadly purpose, who now raised his 
 head and addressed the captive President of the Suicide 
 Club. 
 
 "President," he said, "you have laid your last snare, 
 and your own feet are taken in it. The day is beginning; 
 it is your last morning. You have just swum the Regent's 
 Canal; it is your last bathe in this world. Your old ac- 
 complice. Dr. Noel, so far from betraying me, has deliv- 
 ered you into my hands for judgment. And the grave you 
 had dug for me this afternoon shall serve, in God's al- 
 mighty providence, to hide your own just doom from the 
 curiosity of mankind. Kneel and pray, sir, if you have a 
 mind that way; for your time is short, and God is weary 
 of your iniquities." 
 
88 NEW AEABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 The President made no answer either by word or sign; 
 but continued to hang his head and gaze sullenly on the 
 floor, as though he were conscious of the Prince's pro- 
 longed and unsparing regard. 
 
 "Gentlemen," continued Florizel, resuming the ordi- 
 nary tone of his conversation, "this is a fellow who has 
 long eluded me, but whom, thanks to Dr. Noel, I now 
 have tightly by the heels. To tell the story of his misdeeds 
 would occupy more time than we can now afford; but if 
 the canal had contained nothing but the blood of his vic- 
 tims, I believe the wretch would have been no drier than 
 you see him. Even in an affair of this sort I desire to 
 preserve the forms of honor. But I make you the judges, 
 gentlemen — this is more an execution than a duel; and to 
 give the rogue his choice of weapons would be to push 
 too far a point of etiquette. I cannot afford to lose my 
 life in such a business," he continued, unlocking the case 
 of swords; "and as a pistol-bullet travels so often on the 
 wings of chance, and skill and courage may fall by the 
 most , trembling marksman, I have decided, and I feel 
 sure you will approve my determination, to put this 
 question to the touch of swords." 
 
 When Brackenbury and Major O'Rooke, to whom tiiese 
 remarks were particularly addressed, had each intimated 
 his approval, "Quick, sir," added Prince Florizel to the 
 President, "choose a blade and do not keep me wait- 
 ing; I have an impatience to be done with you for 
 ever." 
 
 For the first time since he was captured and disarmed 
 the President raised his head, and it was plain that he 
 began instantly to pluck up courage. 
 
 "Is it to be stand up?" he asked eagerly, "and between 
 you and me?" 
 
 "I mean so far to honor you," replied the Prince, 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 89 
 
 "Oh, come!" cried the President. "With a fair field, 
 who knows how things may happen? I must add that I 
 consider it handsome behavior on your Highness's part; 
 and if the worst comes to the worst I shall die by one of 
 the most gallant gentlemen in Europe. ' ' 
 
 And the President, liberated by those who had detained 
 him, stepped up to the table and began, with minute atten- 
 tion, to select a sword. He was highly elated, and seemed 
 to feel no doubt that he should issue victorious from the 
 contest. The spectators grew alarmed in the face of so 
 entire a confidence, and adjured Prince Florizel to recon- 
 sider his intention. 
 
 "It is but a farce," he answered; "and I think I can 
 promise you, gentlemen, that it will not be long a-play- 
 ing." 
 
 "Your Highness will be careful not to overreach," said 
 Colonel Geraldine. 
 
 "Geraldine," returned the Prince, "did you ever know 
 me fail in a debt of honor? I owe you this man's death, 
 and you shall have it." 
 
 The President at last satisfied himself with one of the 
 rapiers, and signified his readiness by a gesture that was 
 not devoid of a rude nobility. The nearness of peril, and 
 the sense of courage, even to this obnoxious villain, lent 
 an air of manhood and a certain grace. 
 
 The Prince helped himself at random to a sword. 
 
 "Colonel Geraldine and Doctor Noel," he said, "will 
 have the goodness to await me in this room. I wish no 
 personal friend of mine to be involved in this transaction. 
 Major O'Rooke, you are a man of some years and a settled 
 reputation— let me recommend the President to your good 
 graces. Lieutenant Rich will be so good as to lend me 
 his attentions: a young man cannot have too much expe- 
 rience in such affairs." 
 
90 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Your Highness," replied Brackenbury, "it is an honor 
 I shall prize extremely. " 
 
 "It is well," returned Prince Florizel; "I shall hope to 
 stand your friend in more important circumstances. 
 
 And so saying he led the way out of the apartment and 
 down the kitchen stairs. 
 
 The two men who were thus left alone threw open the 
 window and leaned out, straining every sense to catch an 
 indication of the tragical events that were about to fol- 
 low. The rain was now over; day had almost come, and 
 the birds were piping in the shrubbery and on the forest 
 trees of the garden. The Prince and his companions were 
 visible for a moment as they followed an alley between 
 two flowering thickets; but at the first corner a clump of 
 foliage intervened, and they were again concealed from 
 view. This was all that the Colonel and the physician had 
 an opportunity to see, and the garden was so vast, and 
 the place of combat evidently so remote from the house, 
 that not even the noise of sword play reached their ears. 
 
 "He has taken him towards the grave," said Dr. Noel, 
 with a shudder. 
 
 "God," cried the Colonel, "God defend the right!" 
 
 And they awaited the event in silence, the Doctor shak- 
 ing with fear, the Colonel in an agony of sweat. Many 
 minutes must have elapsed, the day was sensibly broader, 
 and the birds were singing more heartily in the garden 
 before a sound of returning footsteps recalled their glances 
 towards the door. It was the Prince and the two Indian 
 officers who entered. God had defended the right. 
 
 "I am ashamed of my emotion," said Prince Florizel; 
 "I feel it a weakness unworthy of my station, but the 
 continued existence of that hound of hell had begun to 
 play upon me like a disease, and his death has more re- 
 freshed me than a night of slumber. Look, Geraldine," 
 
THE SUICIDE CLUB 91 
 
 he continued, throwing his sword upon the floor, ' 'there 
 is the blood of the man who killed your brother. It 
 should be a welcome sight. And yet," he added, "see 
 how strangely we men are made! my revenge is not yet 
 five minutes old, and already I am beginning to ask my- 
 self if even revenge be attainable on this precarious stage 
 of life. The ill he did, who can undo it? The career in 
 which he amassed a huge fortune (for the house itself 
 in which he staid belonged to him) — ^that career is now 
 a part of the destiny of mankind forever; and I might 
 weary myself making thrusts in carte until the crack of 
 judgment, and Geraldine's brother would be none the less 
 dead, and a thousand other innocent persons would be 
 none the less dishonored and debauched! The existence 
 of a man is so small a thing to take, so mighty a thing 
 to employ! Alas!" he cried, "is there anything in life 
 so disenchanting as attainment?" 
 
 "God's justice has been done," replied the Doctor. 
 "So much I behold. The lesson, your Highness, has been 
 a cruel one for me; and I await my own turn with deadly 
 apprehension. ' ' 
 
 "What was I saying?" cried the Prince. "I have pun- 
 ished, and here is the man beside us who can help me to 
 undo. Ah, Dr. Noel ! you and I have before us many a 
 day of hard and honorable toil ; and perhaps, before we 
 have done, you may have more than redeemed your early 
 errors." 
 
 "And in the meantime," said the Doctor, "let me go 
 and bury my oldest friend." 
 
 (And this, observes the erudite Arabian, is the for- 
 tunate, conclusion of the tale. The Prince, it is superflu- 
 ous to mention, forgot none of those who served him in this 
 great exploit; and to this day his authority and influence 
 help them forward in their public career, while his con- 
 
92 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 descending friendship adds a charm to their private life. 
 To collect, continues the author, all the strange events in 
 which this Prince has played the part of Providence were 
 to fill the habitable globe vnth books. But the stones which 
 relate to the fortunes of The Rajah's Diamond are of 
 too entertaining a description, says he, to be omitted. 
 Following prudently in the footsteps of this Oriental, we 
 shall now begin the series to which he refers with the 
 Story of the Bandbox.) 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 
 
 STORY OF THE BANDBOX 
 
 Up to the age of sixteen, at a private school and after- 
 wards at one of those great institutions for which England 
 is justly famous, Mr. Harry Hartley had received the 
 ordinary education of a gentleman. At that period, he 
 manifested a remarkable distaste for study; and his only 
 surviving parent being both weak and ignorant, he was 
 permitted thenceforward to spend his time in the attain- 
 ment of petty and purely elegant accomplishments. Two 
 years later, he was left an orphan and almost a beggar. 
 For all active and industrious pursuits, Harry was unfitted 
 alike by nature and training. He could sing romantic 
 ditties, and accompany himself with discretion on the 
 piano; he was a graceful although a timid cavalier; he 
 had a pronounced taste for chess; and nature had sent him 
 into the world with one of the most engaging exteriors 
 that can well be fancied. Blond and pink, with dove's 
 eyes and a gentle smile, he had an air of agreeable ten- 
 derness and melancholy, and the most submissive and 
 caressing manners. But when all is said, he was not the 
 man to lead armaments of war, or direct the councils of 
 a otaxe. 
 
 A fortunate chance and some influence obtained for 
 Harry, at the time of his bereavement, the position of 
 private secretary to Major-General Sir Thomas Vande- 
 leur, C.B. Sir Thomas was a man of sixty, loud-spoken, 
 boisterous, and domineering. For some reason, some serv- 
 
94 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 ice the nature of which had been often whispered and re- 
 peatedly denied, the Rajah of Kashgar had presented this 
 officer with the sixth known diamond of the world. The 
 gift transformed General Vandeleur from a poor into a 
 wealthy man, from an obscure and unpopular soldier into 
 one of the lions of London society; the possessor of the 
 Rajah's Diamond was welcome in the most exclusive 
 circles; and he had found a lady, young, beautiful, and 
 well-born, who was willing to call the diamond hers even 
 at the price of marriage with Sir Thomas Vandeleur. It 
 was commonly said at the time that, as like draws to like, 
 one jewel had attracted another; certainly Lady Vandeleur 
 was not only a gem of the finest water in her own person, 
 but she showed herself to the world in a very costly set- 
 ting; and she was considered by many respectable author- 
 ities, as one among the three or four best dressed women 
 in England. 
 
 Harry's duty as secretary was not particularly onerous; 
 but he had a dislike for all prolonged work; it gave him 
 pain to ink his fingers; and the charms of Lady Vandeleur 
 and her toilettes drew him often from the library to the 
 boudoir. He had the prettiest ways among women, could 
 talk fashions with enjojnnent, and was never more happy 
 than when criticising a shade of ribbon, or running on an 
 errand to the milliner's. In short. Sir Thomas's corre- 
 spondence fell into pitiful arrears, and my Lady had 
 another lady's maid. 
 
 At last the General, who was one of the least patient of 
 military commanders, arose from his place in a violent 
 excess of passion, and indicated to his secretary that he 
 had no further use for his services, with one of those 
 explanatory gestures which are most rarely employed be- 
 tween gentlemen. The door being unfortunately open, 
 Mr. Hartley fell down-stairs head foremost. 
 
THE RAJAH'S DUMOND 95 
 
 He arose somewhat hurt and very de^ly aggrieved. 
 The life in the General's house precisely suited him; he 
 moved, on a more or less doubtful footing, in very gen- 
 teel company, he did little, he ate of the best, and he had 
 a lukewarm satisfaction in the presence of Lady Van- 
 deleur, which, in his own heart, he dubbed by a more 
 emphatic name. 
 
 Immediately after he had been outraged by the military 
 foot, he hurried to the boudoir and recounted his sorrows. 
 
 ' 'You know very well, my dear Harry, ' ' replied Lady 
 Vandeleur, for she called him by name like a child or a 
 domestic servant, "that you never by any chance do what 
 the General tells you. No more do I, you may say. But 
 that is different. A woman can earn her pardon for a 
 good year of disobedience by a single adroit submission; 
 and, besides, no one is married to his private secretary. 
 I shall be sorry to lose you, but since you cannot stay 
 longer in a house where you have been insulted, I shall 
 wish you good-bye, and I promise you to make the General 
 smart for his behavior." 
 
 Harry's countenance fell ; tears came into his eyes, and 
 he gazed on Lady Vandeleur with a tender reproach. 
 
 "My Lady," said he, "what is an insult? I should 
 think little indeed of anyone who could not forgive them 
 by the score. But to leave one's friends; to tear up the 
 bonds of affection ' ' 
 
 He was unable to continue, for his emotion choked 
 him, and he began to weep. 
 
 Lady Vandeleur looked at him with a curious expres- 
 sion. 
 
 "This little fool," she thought, "imagines himself to 
 be in love with me. Why should he not become my 
 servant instead of the General's? He is good-natured, 
 obliging, and understands dress; and besides it will keep 
 
96 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 him out of mischief. He is positively too pretty to be 
 unattached." 
 
 That night she talked over the General, who was already 
 somewhat ashamed of his vivacity; and Harry was trans- 
 ferred to the feminine department, where his life was 
 little short of heavenly. He was always dressed with un- 
 common nicety, wore delicate flowers in his buttonhole, 
 and could entertain a visitor with tact and pleasantry. 
 He took a pride in servility to a beautiful woman; received 
 Lady Vandeleur's commands as so many marks of favor; 
 and was pleased to exhibit himself before other men, who 
 derided and despised him, in his character of male lady's- 
 maid and man milliner. Nor could he think enough of 
 his existence from a moral point of view. Wickedness 
 seemed to him an essentially male attribute, and to pass 
 one's days with a delicate woman, and principally occupied 
 about trimmings, was to inhabit an enchanted isle among 
 the storms of life. 
 
 One fine morning he came into the drawing-room and 
 began to arrange some music on the top of the piano. 
 Lady Vandeleur, at the other end of the apartment, was 
 speaking somewhat eagerly with her brother, Charlie 
 Pendragon, an elderly young man, much broken with 
 dissipation, and very lame of one foot. The private 
 secretary, to whose entrance they paid no regard, could 
 not avoid overhearing a part of their conversation. 
 
 "To-day or never," said the lady. "Once and for all, 
 it shall be done to-day." 
 
 "To-day, if it must be," replied the brother, with a 
 sigh. "But it is a false step, a ruinous step, Clara; and 
 we shall live to repent it dismally." 
 
 Lady Vandeleur looked her brother steadily and some- 
 what strangely in the face. 
 
 "You forget," she said; "the man must die at last." 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 97 
 
 "Upon my word, Clara," said Pendragon, "I believe 
 you are the most heartless rascal in England." 
 
 "You men," she returned, "are so coarsely built, that 
 you can never appreciate a shade of meaning. You are 
 yourselves rapacious, violent, immodest, careless of dis- 
 tinction; and yet the least thought foi: the future shocks 
 you in a woman. I have no patience with such stuff. 
 You would despise in a common banker the imbecility 
 that you expect to find in us." 
 
 "You are very likely right, " replied her brother; "you 
 were always cleverer than I. And, anyway, you know my 
 motto; the family before all." 
 
 "Yes, Charlie," she returned, taking his hand in hers, 
 "I know your motto better than you know it yourself. 
 And 'Clara before the family!' Is not that the second 
 part of it? Indeed, you are the best of brothers, and I 
 love you dearly." 
 
 Mr. Pendragon got up, looking a little confused by 
 these family endearments. 
 
 "I had better not be seen," said he. "I understand 
 my part to a miracle, and I'll keep an eye on the Tame 
 Cat." 
 
 "Do," she replied. "He is an abject creature, and 
 might ruin all." 
 
 She kissed the tips of her fingers to him daintily; and 
 the brother withdrew by the boudoir and the back stair. 
 
 "Harry," said Lady Vandeleur, turning towards the 
 secretary as soon as they were alone. "I have a commis- 
 sion for you this morning. But you shall take a cab; I 
 cannot have my secretary freckled." 
 
 She spoke the last words with emphasis and a look of 
 half-motherly pride that caused great contentment to 
 poor Harry; and he professed himself charmed to find an 
 opportunity of serving her. 
 
98 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "It is another of our great secrets," she went on, 
 archly, "and no one must know of it but my secretary 
 and me. Sir Thomas would make the saddest disturbance ; 
 and if you only knew how weary I am of these scenes! 
 Oh, Harry, Harry, can you explain to me what makes you 
 men so violent and unjust? But, indeed, I know you 
 cannot; you are the only man in the world who knows 
 nothing of these shameful passions; you are so good, 
 Harry, and so kind; you, at least, can be a woman's 
 friend; and, do you know? I think you make the others 
 more ugly by comparison." 
 
 "It is you," said Harry, gallantly, "who are so kind to 
 me. You treat me like " 
 
 "Like a mother," interposed Lady Vandeleur, "I try 
 to be a mother to you. Or, at least," she corrected her- 
 self with a smile, ' 'almost a mother. I am afraid I am 
 too young to be your mother really. Let us say a friend 
 — a dear friend. ' ' 
 
 She paused long enough to. let her words take effect in 
 Harry's sentimental quarters, but not long enough to 
 allow him a reply. 
 
 "But all this is beside our purpose," she resumed. 
 "You will find a bandbox in the left-hand side of the oak 
 wardrobe; it is underneath the pink slip that I wore on 
 Wednesday with my Mechlin. You will take it immedi- 
 ately to this address," and she gave him a paper, "but 
 do not, on any account, let it out of your hands until 
 you have received a receipt written by myself. Do you 
 understand? Answer, if you please — answer! This is 
 extremely important, and I must ask you to pay some 
 attention. ' ' 
 
 Harry pacified her by repeating her instructions per- 
 fectly; and she was just going to tell him more when 
 General Vandeleur flung into the apartment, scarlet with 
 
THE RAJAH'S DLAMOND 99 
 
 anger, and holding a long and elaborate milliner's bill in 
 his hand. 
 
 "Will you look at this, madam?" cried he. "Will you 
 have the goodness to look at this document? I know well 
 enough you married me for my money, and I hope I can 
 make as great allowance as any other man in the service; 
 but, as sure as God made me, I mean to put a period to 
 this disreputable prodigality." 
 
 "Mr. Hartley," said Lady Vandeleur, "I think you un- 
 derstand what you have to do. May I ask you to see to it 
 at once?" 
 
 "Stop," said the General, addressing Harry, "one word 
 before you go." And then, turning again to Lady Van- 
 deleur, "what is this precious fellow's errand?" he de- 
 manded. ' 'I trust him no further than I do yourself, let 
 me tell you. If he had as much as the rudiments of 
 honesty, he would scorn to stay in this house; and what 
 he does for his wages is a mystery to all the world. What 
 is his errand, madam? and why are you hurrying him 
 away?" 
 
 "I supposed you had something to say to me in pri- 
 vate," replied the lady. 
 
 "You spoke about an errand," insisted the General. 
 "Do not attempt to deceive me in my present state of 
 temper. You certainly spoke about an errand." 
 
 "If you insist on making your servants privy to our 
 humiliating dissensions," replied Lady Vandeleur, "per- 
 haps I had better ask Mr. Hartley to sit down. No?" she 
 continued; "then you may go, Mr. Hartley. I trust you 
 may remember all that you have heard in this room; it 
 may be useful to you. ' ' 
 
 Harry at once made his escape from the drawing-room; 
 and as he ran upstairs he could hear the General's voice 
 upraised in declamation, and the thin tones of Lady Van- 
 
100 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 deleur planting icy repartees at every opening. How 
 cordially he admired the wife! How skilfully she could 
 evade an awkward question ! with what secure effrontery 
 she repeated her instructions under the very guns of the 
 enemy! and on the other hand, how he detested the 
 husband ! 
 
 There had been nothing unfamiliar in the morning's 
 events, for he was continually in the habit of serving 
 Lady Vandeleur on secret missions, principally connected 
 with millinery. There was a skeleton in the house, as 
 he well knew. The bottomless extravagance and the un- 
 known liabilities of the wife had long since swallowed 
 her own fortune, and threatened day by day to engulf 
 that of the husband. Once or twice in every year expo- 
 sure and ruin seemed imminent, and Harry kept trotting 
 round to all sorts of furnishers' shops, telling small fibs, 
 and paying small advances on the gross amount, until 
 another term was tided over, and the lady and her faithful 
 secretary breathed again. For Harry, in a double capac- 
 ity, was heart and soul upon that side of the war: not 
 only did he adore Lady Vandeleur and fear and dislike her 
 husband, but he naturally sympathized with the love of 
 finery, and his own single extravagance was at the tailor's. 
 
 He found the bandbox where it had been described, 
 arranged his toilet with care, and left the house. The 
 sun shone brightly; the distance he had to travel was 
 considerable, and he remembered with dismay that the 
 General's sudden irruption had prevented Lady Vandeleur 
 from giving him money for a cab. On this sultry day 
 there was every chance that his complexion would suffer 
 severely; and to walk through so much of London with a 
 bandbox on his arm was a humiliation almost insupport- 
 able to a youth of his character. He paused, and took 
 counsel with himself. The Vandeleurs lived in Eaton 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 101 
 
 Place; his destination was near Netting Hill; plainly, he 
 might cross the Park by keeping well in the open and 
 avoiding populous alleys; and he thanked his stars when 
 he reflected that it was still comparatively early in the 
 day. 
 
 Anxious to be rid of his incubus, he walked some- 
 what faster than his ordinary, and he was already some 
 way through Kensington Gardens when, in a solitary 
 spot among trees, he found himself confronted by the 
 General. 
 
 "I beg your pardon. Sir Thomas," observed Harry, 
 politely falling on one side; for the other stood directly 
 in his path. 
 
 "Where are you going, sir?" asked the General. 
 
 "I am taking a little walk among the trees," replied 
 the lad. 
 
 The General struck the bandbox with his cane. 
 
 "With that thing?" he cried; "you lie, sir, and you 
 know you lie!" 
 
 "Indeed, Sir Thomas," returned Harry, "I am not 
 accustomed to be questioned in so high a key. ' ' 
 
 ' 'You do not understand your position, ' ' said the Gen- 
 eral. "You are my servant, and a servant of whom I 
 have conceived the most serious suspicions. How do I 
 know but that your box is full of teaspoons?" 
 
 "It contains a silk hat belonging to a friend," said 
 Harry. 
 
 "Very well," replied General Vandeleur. "Then I 
 want to see your friend's silk hat. I have," he added, 
 grimly, "a singular curiosity for hats; and I believe you 
 know me to be somewhat positive. ' ' 
 
 "I beg your pardon. Sir Thomas, I am exceedingly 
 grieved," Harry apologized ; "but indeed this is a private 
 affair." 
 
102 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 The General caught him roughly by the shoulder with 
 one hand, while he raised his cane in the most menacing 
 manner with the other. Harry gave himself up for lost; 
 but at the same moment Heaven vouchsafed him an un- 
 expected defender in the person of Charlie Pendragon, 
 who now strode forward from behind the trees. 
 
 "Come, come. General, hold your hand," said he, "this 
 is neither courteous nor manly." 
 
 "Aha!" cried the General, wheeling round upon his 
 ne\y antagonist, "Mr. Pendragon! And do you suppose, 
 Mr. Pendragon, that because I have had the misfortune 
 to marry your sister, I shall suffer myself to be dogged 
 and thwarted by a discredited and bankrupt libertine like 
 you? My acquaintance with Lady Vandeleur, sir, has 
 taken away all my appetite for the other members of her 
 family." 
 
 "And do you fancy. General Vandeleur," retorted 
 Charlie, ' 'that because my sister has had the misfortune 
 to marry you, she there and then forfeited her rights and 
 privileges as a lady? I own, sir, that by that action she 
 did as much as anybody could to derogate from her posi- 
 tion; but to me she is still a Pendragon. I make it my 
 business to protect her from ungentlemanly outrage, and 
 if you were ten times her husband I would not permit her 
 liberty to be restrained, nor her private messenger to be 
 violently arrested." 
 
 "How is that, Mr. Hartley?" interrogated the General. 
 
 "Mr. Pendragon is of my opinion, it appears. He too 
 suspects that Lady Vandeleur has something to do with 
 your friend's silk hat." 
 
 Charlie saw that he had committed an unpardonable 
 blunder, which he hastened to repair. 
 
 "How, sir?" he cried; "I suspect, do you say? I sus- 
 pect nothing. Only where I find strength abused and a 
 
THE RAJAH'S DUMOND 103 
 
 man brutalizing his inferiors, I take the liberty to in- 
 terfere." 
 
 As he said these words he made a sign to Harry, which 
 the latter was too dull or too much troubled to understand. 
 
 "In what way am I to construe your attitude, sir?" 
 demanded Vandeleur. 
 
 "Why, sir, as you please, " returned Pendragon. 
 
 The General once more raised his cane, and made a cut 
 for Charlie's head; but the latter, lame foot and all, 
 evaded the blow with his umbrella, ran in, and immedi- 
 ately closed with his formidable adversary. 
 
 "Run, Harry, run!" he cried; "run, you dolt!" 
 
 Harry stood petrified for a moment, watching the two 
 men sway together in this fierce embrace; then he turned 
 and took to his heels. When he cast a glance over his 
 shoulder he saw the General prostrate under Charlie's 
 knee, but still making desperate efforts to reverse the 
 situation; and the Gardens seemed to have filled with 
 people, who were running from all directions towards the 
 scene of fight. This spectacle lent the secretary wings; 
 and he did not relax his pace until he had gained the 
 Bayswater road, and plunged at random into an unfre- 
 quented by-street. 
 
 To see two gentlemen of his acquaintance thus brutally 
 mauling each other was deeply shocking to Harry. He 
 desired to forget the sight; he desired, above all, to put 
 as great a distance as possible between himself and Gen- 
 eral Vandeleur; and in his eagerness for this he forgot 
 everything about his destination, and hurried befdre him 
 headlong and trembling. When he remembered that Lady 
 Vandeleur was the wife of one and sister of the other of 
 these gladiators, his heart was touched with sympathy 
 for a woman so distressingly misplaced in life. Even 
 his own situation in the General's house looked hardly so 
 
104 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 pleasing as usual in the light of these violent trans- 
 actions. 
 
 He had walked some little distance, busied with these 
 meditations, before a slight collision with another pas- 
 senger reminded him of the bandbox on his arm. 
 
 ' 'Heavens ! ' ' cried he, ' 'where was my head? and whither 
 have I wandered?" 
 
 Thereupon he consulted the envelope which Lady Van- 
 deleur had given him. The address was there, but with- 
 out a name. Harry was simply directed to ask for "the 
 gentleman who expected a parcel from Lady Vandeleur," 
 and if he were not at home to await his return. The 
 gentleman, added the note, should present a receipt in 
 the handwriting of the lady herself. All this seemed 
 mighty mysterious, and Harry was above all astonished 
 at the omission of the name and the formality of the re- 
 ceipt. He had thought little of this last when he heard 
 it dropped in conversation; but reading it in cold blood, 
 and taking it in connection with the other strange par- 
 ticulars, he became convinced that he was engaged in 
 perilous affairs. For half a moment he had a doubt of 
 Lady Vandeleur herself; for he found these obscure pro- 
 ceedings somewhat unworthy of so high a lady, and 
 became more, critical when her secrets were preserved 
 against himself. But her empire over his spirit was too 
 complete, he dismissed his suspicions, and blamed himself 
 roundly for having so much as entertained themi 
 
 In one thing, however, his duty and interest, his gen- 
 erosity and his terrors, coincided — to get rid of the 
 bandbox with the greatest possible despatch. 
 
 He accosted the first policeman and courteously inquired 
 his way. It turned out that he was already not far from 
 his destination, and a walk of a few minutes brought him 
 to a small house in a lane, freshly painted, and kept with 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 105 
 
 the most scrupulous attention. The knocker and bell-pull 
 were highly polished; flowering pot-herbs garnished the 
 sills of the different windows; and curtains of some rich 
 material concealed the interior from the eyes of curious 
 passengers. The place had an air of repose and secrecy; 
 and Harry was so far caught with this spirit that he 
 knocked with more than usual discretion, and was more 
 than usually careful to remove all impurity from his 
 boots. 
 
 A servant-maid of some personal attractions immedi- 
 ately opened the door, and seemed to regard the secretary 
 with no unkind eyes. 
 
 "This is the parcel from Lady Vandeleur, " said Harry. 
 
 "I know," replied the maid, with a nod. "But the 
 gentleman is from home. Will you leave it with me?" 
 
 "I cannot," answered Harry. "I am directed not to 
 part with it but upon a certain condition, and I must ask 
 you, I am afraid, to let me wait. ' ' 
 
 "Well," said she, "I suppose I may let you wait. I 
 am lonely enough, I can tell you, and you do not look as 
 though you would eat a girl. But be sure and do not ask 
 the gentleman's name, for that I am not to tell you. ' ' 
 
 "Do you say so?" cried Harry. "Why, how strange! 
 But indeed for some time back I walk among surprises. 
 One question I think I may surely ask without indiscre- 
 tion: Is he the master of this house?" 
 
 "He is a lodger, and not eight days old at that," re^, 
 turned the maid. "And now a question for a question: 
 Do you know Lady Vandeleur?" 
 
 "I am her private secretary," replied Harry, with a 
 glow of modest pride. 
 
 "She is pretty, is she not?" pursued the servant. 
 
 "Oh, beautiful!" cried Harry; "wonderfully lovely, 
 and not less good and kind!" 
 
106 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 ' 'You look kind enough yourself, ' ' she retorted ; ' 'and I 
 wager you are worth a dozen Lady Vandeleurs. 
 
 Harry was properly scandalized. 
 
 "I!" he cried. "I am only a secretary!" 
 
 "Do you mean that for me?" said the girl. "Because 
 I am only a housemaid, if you please." And then, relent- 
 ing at the sight of Harry's obvious confusion, "I know 
 you mean nothing of the sort," she added; "and I like 
 your looks; but I think nothing of your Lady Vandeleur. 
 Oh, these mistresses!" she cried. "To send out a real 
 gentleman like you — ^with a bandbox — in broad day!" 
 
 During this talk they had remained in their original 
 positions — she on the doorstep, he on the sidewalk, bare- 
 headed for the sake of coolness, and with the bandbox on 
 his arm. But upon this last speech Harry, who was 
 unable to support such point-blank compliments to his 
 appearance, nor the encouraging look with which they 
 were accompanied, began to change his attitude, and 
 glance from left to right in perturbation. In so doing 
 he turned his face towards the lower end of the lane, and 
 there, to his indescribable dismay, his eyes encountered 
 those of General Vandeleur. The General, in a prodigious 
 fluster of heat, hurry, and indignation, had been scouring 
 the streets in chase of his brother-in-law; but so soon as 
 he caught a glimpse of the delinquent secretary his pur- 
 pose changed, his anger flowed into a new channel, and 
 he turned on his heel and came tearing up the lane with 
 truculent gestures and vociferations. 
 
 Harry made but one bolt of it into the house, driving 
 the maid before him; and the door was slammed in his 
 pursuer's countenance. 
 
 "Is there a bar? Will it lock?" asked Harry, while a 
 salvo on the knocker made the house echo from wall to 
 wall. 
 
THE eajah's diamond 107 
 
 "Why, what is wrong with you?" asked the maid. 
 "Is it this old gentleman?" 
 
 "If he gets hold of me," whispered Harry, "I am as 
 good as dead. He has been pursuing me all day, carries 
 a sword-stick, and is an Indian military officer." 
 
 "These are fine manners," cried the maid. "And what, 
 if you please, may be his name?" 
 
 "It is the General, my master," answered Harry. "He 
 is after this bandbox." 
 
 "Did not I tell you?" cried the maid in triumph. "I 
 told you I thought worse than nothing of your Lady Van- 
 deleur; and if you had an eye in your head you might see 
 what she is for yourself. An ungrateful minx, I will be 
 bound for that I" 
 
 The General renewed his attack upon the knocker, and 
 his passion growing with delay, began to kick and beat 
 upon the panels of the door. 
 
 "It is lucky," observed the girl, "that I am alone in 
 the house; your General may hammer until he is weary, 
 and there is none to open for him. Follow me I " 
 
 So saying she led Harry into the kitchen, where she 
 made him sit down, and stood by him herself in an affec- 
 tionate attitude, with a hand upon his shoulder. The din 
 at the door, so far from abating, continued to increase 
 in volume, and at each blow the unhappy secretary was 
 shaken to the heart. 
 
 "What is your name?" asked the girl. 
 
 "Harry Hartley," he replied. 
 
 "Mine," she went on, "is Prudence. Do you like it?" 
 
 "Very much," said Harry. "But hear for a moment 
 how the General beats upon the door. He will certainly 
 break it in, and then, in heaven's name, what have I to 
 look for but death?" 
 
 "You put yourself very much about with no occasion," 
 
108 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 answered Prudence. "Let your General knock, he will do 
 no more than blister his hands. Do you think I would 
 keep you here if I were not sure to save you? Oh, no, I 
 am a good friend to those that please me! and we have a 
 back door upon another lane. But," she added, checking 
 him, for he had got upon his feet immediately on this , 
 welcome news, "but I will not show where it is unless I 
 you kiss me. Will you, Harry?" 
 
 "That I will," he cried, remembering his gallantry, 
 "not for your back door, but because you are good and 
 pretty." 
 
 And he administered two or three cordial salutes, which 
 were returned to him in kind. 
 
 Then Prudence led him to the back gate, and put her 
 hand upon the key. 
 
 "Will you come and see me?" she asked. 
 
 "I will indeed," said Harry. "Do not I owe you my 
 life?" 
 
 "And now," she added, opening the door, "run as hard 
 as you can, for I shall let in the General. ' ' 
 
 Harry scarcely required this advice; fear had him by 
 the forelock; and he addressed himself diligently to flight. 
 A few steps, and he believed he would return to Lady 
 Vandeleur in honor and safety. But these few steps had 
 not been taken before he heard a man's voice, hailing him 
 by name with many execrations, and, looking over his 
 shoulder, he beheld Charlie Pendragon waving him with 
 both arms to return. The shock of this new incident was 
 so sudden and profound, and Harry was already worked 
 into so high a state of nervous tension, that he could think 
 of nothing better than to accelerate his pace, and continue 
 running. He should certainly have remembered the scene 
 in Kensington Gardens; he should certainly have con- 
 cluded that, where the General was his enemy, Charlie 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 109 
 
 Pendragon could be no other than a friend. But such 
 was the fever and perturbation of his mind that he was 
 struck by none of these considerations, and only continued 
 to run the faster up the lane. 
 
 Charlie, by the sound of his voice and the vile terms 
 that he hurled after the secretary, was obviously beside 
 himself with rage. He, too, ran his very best; but, try 
 as he might, the physical advantages were not upon his 
 side, and his outcries and the fall of his lame foot on the 
 macadam began to fall farther and farther into the wake. 
 
 Harry's hopes began once more to arise. The lane was 
 both steep and narrow, but it was exceedingly solitary, 
 bordered on either hand by garden walls, overhung with 
 foliage; and, for as far as the fugitive could see in front 
 of him, there was neither a creature moving nor an open 
 door. Providence, weary of persecution, was now offering 
 him an open field for his escape. 
 
 Alas! as he came abreast of a garden door under a tuft 
 of chestnuts, it was suddenly drawn back, and he could 
 see inside, upon a garden path, the figure of a butcher's 
 boy with his tray upon his arm. He had hardly recog- 
 nized the fact before he was some steps beyond upon the 
 other side. But the fellow had had time to observe him; 
 he was evidently much surprised to see a gentleman go by 
 at so unusual a pace; and he came out into the lane and 
 began to call after Harry with shouts of ironical encour- 
 agement. 
 
 His appearance gave a new idea to Charlie Pendragon, 
 who, although he was now sadly out of breath, once more 
 upraised his voice. 
 
 "Stop thief!" he cried. 
 
 And immediately the butcher's boy had taken up the 
 cry and joined in the pursuit. 
 
 This was a bitter moment for the hunted secretary. It 
 
110 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 is true that his terror enabled him once more to improve 
 his pace, and gain with every step on his pursuers; but 
 he was well aware that he was near the end of his re- 
 sources, and should he meet anyone coming the other way, 
 his predicament in the narrow lane would be desperate 
 indeed. 
 
 "I must find a place of concealment," he thought, "and 
 that within the next few seconds, or all is over with me 
 in this world." 
 
 Scarcely had the thought crossed his mind than the lane 
 took a sudden turning; and he found himself hidden from 
 his enemies. There are circumstances in which even the 
 least energetic of mankind learn to behave with vigor and 
 decision; and the more cautious forget their prudence 
 and embrace foolhardy resolutions. This was one of those 
 occasions for Harry Hartley; and those who knew him 
 best would have been the most astonished at the lad's 
 audacity. He stopped dead, flung the bandbox over a 
 garden wall, and leaping upward with incredible agility 
 and seizing the copestone with his hands, he tumbled 
 headlong after it into the garden. 
 
 He came to himself a moment afterwards, seated in a 
 border of small rosebushes. His hands and knees were 
 cut and bleeding, for the wall had been protected against 
 such an escalade by a liberal provision of old bottles; and 
 he was conscious of a general dislocation and a painful 
 swimming in the head. Facing him across the garden, 
 which was in admirable order, and set with flowers of the 
 most delicious perfume, he beheld the back of a house. 
 It was of considerable extent, and plainly habitable; but, 
 in odd contrast to the grounds, it was crazy, ill-kept, and 
 of a mean appearance. On all other sides the circuit of 
 the garden wall appeared unbroken. 
 
 He took in these features of the scene with mechanical 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 111 
 
 glances, but his mind was still unable to piece together 
 or draw a rational conclusion from what he saw. And 
 when he heard footsteps advancing on the gravel, although 
 he turned his eyes in that direction, it was with no 
 thought either for defense or flight. 
 
 The new comer was a large, coarse, and very sordid 
 personage, in gardening clothes, and with a watering-pot 
 in his left hand. One less confused would have been 
 affected with some alarm at the sight of this man's huge 
 proportions and black and lowering eyes. But Harry was 
 too gravely shaken by his fall to be so much as terrified; 
 and if he was unable to divert his glances from the gar- 
 dener, he remained absolutely passive, and suffered him 
 to draw near, to take him by the shoulder, and to plant 
 him roughly on his feet, without a motion of resistance. 
 
 For a moment the two stared into each other's eyes, 
 Harry fascinated, the man filled with wrath and a cruel, 
 sneering humor. 
 
 "Who are you?" he demanded at last. "Who are you 
 to come flying over my wall and break my Gloire de 
 Dijons? What is your name?" he added, shaking him; 
 "and what may be your business here?" 
 
 Harry could not as much as proffer a word in explana- 
 tion. 
 
 But just at that moment Pendragon and the butcher's 
 boy went clumping past, and the sound of their feet and 
 their hoarse cries echoed loudly in the narrow lane. The 
 gardener had received his answer; and he looked down 
 into Harry's face with an obnoxious smile. 
 
 "A thief !" he said. "Upon my word, and a very good 
 thing you must make of it; for I see you dressed like a 
 gentleman from top to toe. Are you not ashamed to go 
 about the world in such a trim, with honest folk, I dare 
 say, glad to buy your cast-off finery second-hand? Speak 
 
112 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 up, you dog," the man went on; "you can understand 
 English, I suppose; and I mean to have a bit of talk with 
 you before I march you to the station." 
 
 "Indeed, sir," said Harry, "this is all a dreadful mis- 
 conception; and if you will go with me to Sir Thomas 
 Vandeleur's in Eaton Place, I can promise that all will be 
 made plain. The most upright person, as I now perceive, 
 can be led into suspicious positions." 
 
 "My little man," replied the gardener, "I will go with 
 you no farther than the station-house in the next street. 
 The inspector, no doubt, will be glad to take a stroll with 
 you as far as Eaton Place, and have a bit of afternoon tea 
 with your great acquaintances. Or would you prefer t<r 
 go direct to the Home Secretary? Sir Thomas Vandeleur, 
 indeed? Perhaps you think I don't know a gentleman 
 when I see one, from a common run-the-hedge like you? 
 Clothes or no clothes, I can read you like a book. Here 
 is a shirt that maybe cost as much as my Sunday hat; and 
 that coat, I take it, has never seen the inside of Rag-fair, 
 and then your boots " 
 
 The man, whose eyes had fallen upon the ground, 
 stopped short in his insulting commentary, and remained 
 for a moment looking intently upon something at his 
 feet. When he spoke his voice was strangely altered. 
 
 "What, in God's name," said he, "is all this?" 
 
 Harry, following the direction of the man's eyes, be- 
 held a spectacle that struck him dumb with terror and 
 amazement. In his fall he had descended vertically upon 
 the bandbox and burst it open from end to end; thence a 
 great treasure of diamonds had poured forth, and now 
 lay abroad, part trodden in the soil, part scattered on the 
 surface in regal and glittering profusion. There was a 
 magnificent coronet which he had often admired on Lady 
 Vandeleur; there were rings and brooches, ear-drops and 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 113 
 
 bracelets, and even unset brilliants rolling here and there 
 among the rosebTishes like drops of morning dew. A 
 princely fortune lay between the two men upon the grovmd 
 — a fortune in the most inviting, solid, and durable form, 
 capable of being carried in an apron, beautiful in itself, 
 and scattering the sunlight in a million rainbow flashes. 
 
 "Good God!" said Harry, "I am lost!" 
 
 His mind raced backward into the past with the incal- 
 culable velocity of thought, and he began to comprehend 
 his day's adventures, to conceive them as a whole, and to 
 recognize the sad imbroglio in which his own character 
 and fortunes had become involved. He looked round him, 
 as if for help, but he was alone in the garden, with his 
 scattered diamonds and his redoubtable interlocutor; and 
 when he gave ear, there was no sound but the rustle of 
 the leaves and the hurried pulsation of his heart. It was 
 little wonder if the young man felt himself a little de- 
 serted by his spirits, and with a broken voice repeated 
 his last ejaculation — 
 
 "I am lost!" 
 
 The gardener peered in all directions with an air of 
 guilt; but there was no face at any of the windows, and 
 he seemed to breathe again. 
 
 "Pick up a heart," he said, "you fool! The worst of 
 it is done. Why could you not say at first there was 
 enough for two? Two!" he repeated, "aye, and for two 
 Tiundred! But come away from here, where we may be 
 observed; and, for the love of wisdom, straighten out 
 your hat and brush your clothes. You could not travel 
 two steps the figure of fun you look just now." 
 
 While Harry mechanically adopted these suggestions, 
 the gardener, getting upon his knees, hastily drew to- 
 gether the scattered jewels and returned them to the 
 bandbox. The touch of these costly crystals sent a shiver 
 
114 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 of emotion through the man's stalwart frame; his face 
 was transfigured, and his eyes shone with concupiscence; 
 indeed it seemed as if he luxuriously prolonged his occu- 
 pation, and dallied with every diamond that he handled. 
 At last, however, it was done; and, concealing the bandbox 
 in his smock, the gardener beckoned to Harry and pre- 
 ceded him in the direction of the house. 
 
 Near the door they were met by a young man evidently 
 in holy orders, dark and strikingly handsome, with a look 
 of mingled weakness and resolution, and very neatly 
 attired after the manner of his caste. The gardener was 
 plainly annoyed by this encounter; but he put as good a 
 face upon it as he could, and accosted the clergyman with 
 an obsequious and smiling air. 
 
 "Here is a fine afternoon, Mr. Rolles," said he: "a 
 fine afternoon, as sure as God made it! And here is a 
 young friend of mine who had a fancy to look at my 
 roses. I took the liberty to bring him in, for I thought 
 none of the lodgers would object. ' ' 
 
 "Speaking for myself," replied the Reverend Mr. 
 Rolles, "I do not; nor do I fancy any of the rest of ua 
 would be more difficult upon so small a matter. The 
 garden is your own, Mr. Raeburn; we must none of us 
 forget that; and because you give us liberty to walk there 
 we should be indeed ungracious if we so far presumed 
 upon your politeness as to interfere with the convenience 
 of your friends. But, on second thoughts," he added, "I 
 believe that this gentleman and I have met before. Mr. 
 Hartley, I think. I regret to observe that you have had 
 a fall." 
 
 And he offered his hand. 
 
 A sort of maiden dignity and a desire to delay as long 
 as possible the necessity for explanation moved Harry to 
 refuse this chance of help, and to deny his own identity. 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 115 
 
 He chose the tender mercies of the gardener, who was at 
 least unknown to him, rather than the curiosity and per- 
 haps the doubts of an acquaintance, 
 
 "I fear there is some mistake," said he. "My name 
 is Thomlinson and I am a friend of Mr. Raeburn's." 
 
 ' 'Indeed?" said Mr. Rolles. ' 'The likeness is amazing. " 
 
 Mr. Raeburn, who had been upon thorns throughout 
 this colloquy, now felt it high time to bring it to a 
 period. 
 
 "I wish you a pleasant saunter, sir," said he. 
 
 And with that he dragged Harry after him into the 
 house, and then into a chamber on the garden. His first 
 care was to draw down the blind, for Mr. Rolles still re- 
 mained where they had left him, in an attitude of per- 
 plexity and thought. Then he emptied the broken band- 
 box on the table, and stood before the treasure, thus fully 
 displayed, with an expression of rapturous greed, and 
 rubbing his hands upon his thighs. For Harry, the sight 
 of the man's face under the influence of this base emotion, 
 added another pang to those he was already suffering. It 
 seemed incredible that, from his life of pure and delicate 
 trifling, he should be plunged in a breath among sordid 
 and criminal relations. He could reproach his conscience 
 with no sinful act; and yet he was now suffering the 
 punishment of sin in its most acute and cruel forms — the 
 dread of punishment, the suspicions of the good, and the 
 companionship and contamination of vile and brutal na- 
 tures. He felt he could lay his life down with gladness 
 to escape from the room and the society of Mr. Raeburn. 
 
 ' 'And now, ' ' said the latter, after he had separated the 
 jewels into two nearly equal parts, and drawn one of them 
 nearer to himself; "and now," said he, "everything in 
 this world has to be paid for, and some things sweetly. 
 You must know, Mr. Hartley, if such be your name, that 
 
116 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 I am a man of a very easy temper, and good nature has 
 been my stumbling block from first to last. I could 
 pocket the whole of these pretty pebbles, if I chose, and 
 I should like to see you dare to say a word; but I think I 
 must have taken a liking to you; for I declare I have not 
 the heart to shave you so close. So, do you see, in pure 
 kind feeling, I propose that we divide; and these," indi- 
 cating the two heaps, "are the proportions that seem to 
 me just and friendly. Do you see any objection, Mr. 
 Hartley, may I ask? I am not the man to stick upon a 
 brooch. ' ' 
 
 "But, sir," cried Harry, "what you propose to me is 
 impossible. The jewels are not mine, and I cannot share 
 what is another's, no matter with whom, nor in what 
 proportions." 
 
 "They are not yours, are they not?" returned Raeburn. 
 "And you could not share them with anybody, couldn't 
 you? Well now, that is what, I call a pity; for here I am 
 obliged to take you to the station. The police — think of 
 that," he continued; "think of the disgrace for your re- 
 speetable parents; think," he went on, taking Harry by 
 the wrist; "think of the Colonies and the Day of Judg- 
 ment." 
 
 "I cannot help it, ' ' wailed Harry. ' 'It is not my fault. 
 You will not come with me to Eaton Place." 
 
 "No," replied the man, "I will not, that is certain, 
 And I mean to divide these playthings with you here." 
 
 And so saying he applied a sudden and severe torsion 
 to the lad's wrist. 
 
 Harry could not suppress a scream, and the perspiration 
 burst forth upon his face. Perhaps pain and terror 
 quickened his intelligence, but certainly at that moment 
 the whole business flashed across him in another light; 
 and he saw that there was nothing for it but to accede to 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 117 
 
 the ruffian's proposal, and trust to find the house and 
 force him to disgorge, under more favorable circum- 
 stances, and when he himself was clear from all suspicion. 
 
 "I agree," he said. 
 
 "There is a lamb," sneered the gardener. "I thought 
 you would recognize your interests at last. This band- 
 box," he continued, "I shall burn with my rubbish; it is 
 a thing that curious folk might recognize; and as for you, 
 scrape up your gaieties and put them in your pocket." 
 
 Harry proceeded to obey, Raeburn watching him, and 
 every now and again, his greed rekindled by some bright 
 scintillation, abstracting another jewel from the secre- 
 tary's share, and adding it to his own. 
 
 When this was finished, both proceeded to the front 
 door, which Raeburn cautiously opened to observe the 
 street. This was apparently clear of passengers; for he 
 suddenly seized Harry by the nape of the neck, and hold- 
 ing his face downward so that he could see nothing but 
 the roadway and the doorsteps of the houses, pushed him 
 violently before him down one street and up another for 
 the space of perhaps a minute and a half. Harry had 
 counted three corners before the bully relaxed his grasp, 
 and crying, "Now be off with you!" sent the lad flying 
 headforemost with a well-directed and athletic kick. 
 
 When Harry gathered himself up, half-stunned and 
 bleeding freely at the nose, Mr. Raeburn had entirely 
 disappeared. For the first time, anger and pain so com- 
 pletely overcame the lad's spirits that he burst into a fit 
 of tears and remained sobbing in the middle of the road. 
 
 After he had thus somewhat assuaged his emotion, he 
 began to look about him and read the names of the streets 
 at whose intersection he had been deserted by the gar- 
 dener. He was still in an unfrequented portion of West 
 London, among villas and large gardens; but he could see 
 
118 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 some persons at a window who had evidently witnessed 
 his misfortune; and almost immediately after a servant 
 came running from the house and offered him a glass of 
 water. At the same time, a dirty rogue, who had been 
 slouching somewhere in the neighborhood, drew near him 
 from the other side. 
 
 "Poor fellow," said the maid, "how vilely you have 
 been handled, to be sure! Why, your knees are all cut, 
 and your clothes ruined! Do you know the wretch who 
 used you so?" 
 
 "That I do!" cried Harry, who was somewhat refreshed 
 by the water; "and shall run him home in spite of his 
 precautions. He shall pay dearly for this day's work, I 
 promise you. ' ' 
 
 ' 'You had better come into the house and have yourself 
 washed and brushed," continued the maid. "My mis- 
 tress will make you welcome, never fear. And see, I will 
 pick up your hat. Why, love of mercy!" she screamed, 
 "if you have not dropped diamonds all over the street!" 
 
 Such was the case; a good half of what remained to. 
 him after the depredations of Mr. Raeburn, had been 
 shaken out of his pockets by the summersault, and once 
 more lay glittering on the ground. He blessed his for- 
 tune that the maid had been so quick of eye; "there is 
 nothing so bad but it might be worse," thought he; and 
 the recovery of these few seemed to him almost as great 
 an affair as the loss of all the rest. But, alas! as he 
 stooped to pick up his treasures the loiterer made a rapid 
 onslaught, overset both Harry and the maid with a move- 
 ment of his arms, swept up a double handful of the dia- 
 monds, and made off along the street with an amazing 
 swiftness. 
 
 Harry, as soon as he could get upon his feet, gave chase 
 to the miscreant with many cries, but the latter was too 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 119 
 
 fleet of foot, and probably too well acquainted with the 
 locality; for turn where the pursuer would he could find 
 no traces of the fugitive. 
 
 In the deepest despondency Harry revisited the scene of 
 his mishap, where the maid, who was still waiting, very 
 honestly returned him his hat and the remainder of the 
 fallen diamonds. Harry thanked her from his heart, and 
 being now in no humor for economy, made his way to the 
 nearest cabstand and set off for Eaton Place by coach. 
 
 The house, on his arrival, seemed in some confusion, as 
 if a catastrophe had happened in the family; and the 
 servants clustered together in the hall, and were unable, 
 or perhaps not altogether anxious, to suppress their mer- 
 riment at the tatterdemalion figure of the secretary. He 
 passed them with as good an air of dignity as he could 
 assume, and made directly for the boudoir. When he 
 opened the door an astonishing and even menacing spec- 
 tacle presented itself to his eyes; for he beheld the General 
 and his wife and, of all people, Charlie Pendragon, closeted 
 together and speaking with earnestness and gravity on 
 some important subject. Harry saw at once that there 
 was little left for him to explain — plenary confession had 
 plainly been made to the General of the intended fraud 
 upon his pocket, and the unfortunate miscarriage of the 
 scheme; and they had all made common cause against a 
 common danger. 
 
 "Thank Heaven!" cried Lady Vandeleur, "here he is! 
 The bandbox, Harry — the bandbox!" 
 
 But Harry stood before them silent and downcast. 
 
 "Speak!" she cried. "Speak! Where is the bandbox?" 
 
 And the men, with threatening gestures, repeated the 
 demand. 
 
 Harry drew a handful of jewels from his pocket. He 
 was very white. 
 
120 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "This is all that remains," said he. "I declare be- 
 fore Heaven it was through no fault of mine; and if 
 you will have patience, although some are lost, I am 
 afraid, for ever, others, I am sure, may be still recov- 
 ered!" 
 
 "Alas!" cried Lady Vandeleur, "all our diamonds are 
 gone, and I owe ninety thousand pounds for dress!" 
 
 "Madam, ' ' said the General, ' 'you might have paved the 
 gutter with your own trash; you might have made debts 
 to fifty times the sum you mention; you might have robbed 
 me of my mother's coronet and rings; and Nature might 
 have still so far prevailed that I could have forgiven you 
 at last. But, madam, you have taken the Rajah's Dia- 
 mond — the Eye of Light, as the Orientals poetically 
 termed it — the Pride of Kashgar! You have taken from 
 me the Rajah's Diamond," he cried, raising his hands, 
 "and all, madam, all is at an end between us!" 
 
 "Believe me, General Vandeleur," she replied, "that 
 is one of the most agreeable speeches that ever I heard 
 from your lips; and since we are to be ruined I could 
 almost welcome the change, if it delivers me from you. 
 You have told me often enough that I married you for 
 your money; let me tell you now that I always bitterly 
 repented the bargain; and if you were still marriageable, 
 and had a diamond bigger than your head, I should coun- 
 sel even my maid against a union so uninviting and 
 disastrous. As for you, Mr. Hartley," she continued, 
 turning on the secretary, "you have sufficiently exhibited 
 your valuable qualities in this house; we are now persuaded 
 that you equally lack manhood, sense and self-respect; and 
 I can see only one course open for you — ^to withdraw In- 
 stanter, and, if possible, return no more. For your wages 
 you may rank as a creditor in my late husband's bank- 
 ruptcy." 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 121 
 
 Harry had scarcely comprehended this insulting address 
 before the General was down upon him with another. 
 
 "And in the mean time," said that personage, "follow 
 me before the nearest Inspector of Police. You may im- 
 pose upon a simple-minded soldier, sir, but the eye of the 
 law will read your disreputable secret. If I must spend 
 my old age in poverty through your underhand intriguing 
 with my wife, I mean at least that you shall not remain 
 unpunished for your pains; and God, sir, will deny me a 
 very considerable satisfaction if you do not pick oakum 
 from now until your dying day." 
 
 With that the General dragged Harry from the apart- 
 ment, and hurried him downstairs and along the street 
 to the police-station of the district. 
 
 Here (says my Arabian author) ended this deplorable 
 business of the bandbox. But to the unfortunate secre- 
 tary the whole affair was the beginning of a new and 
 manlier life. The police were easily persuaded of his 
 innocence ; and, after he had given what help he could in 
 the subsequent investigations, he was even complimented 
 by one of the chiefs of the detective department on the 
 probity and simplicity of his behavior. Several persons 
 interested themselves in one so unfortunate; and soon 
 after he inherited a sum of money from a maiden aunt 
 in Worcestershire. With this he married Prudence, and 
 set sail for Bendigo, or according to another account, for 
 Trincomalee, exceedingly content, and with the best of 
 prospects. 
 
122 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN IN HOLY ORDERS 
 
 The Reverend Mr. Simon Rolles had distinguished 
 himself in the Moral Sciences, and was more than usually 
 proficient in the study of Divinity. His essay "On the 
 Christian Doctrine of the Social Obligations" obtained 
 for him at the moment of its production, a certain celeb- 
 rity in the University of Oxford ; and it w^as understood 
 in clerical and learned circles that young Mr. Rolles had 
 in contemplation a considerable work — a folio, it was said 
 — on the authority of the Fathers of the Church. These 
 attainments, these ambitious designs, however, were far 
 from helping him to any preferment; and still he was in 
 quest of his first curacy when a chance ramble in that 
 part of London, the peaceful and rich aspect of the gar- 
 den, a desire for solitude and study, and the cheapness of 
 the lodging, led him to take up his abode with Mr. Rae- 
 burn, the nurseryman of Stockdove Lane. 
 
 It was his habit every afternoon, after he had worked 
 seven or eight hours on St. Ambrose or St. Chrysostom, 
 to walk for a while in meditation among the roses. And 
 this was usually one of the most productive moments of 
 his day. But even a sincere appetite for thought, and 
 the excitement of grave problems awaiting solution, are 
 not always sufficient to preserve the mind of the philoso- 
 pher against the petty shocks and contacts of the world. 
 And when Mr. Rolles found General Vandeleur's secretary, 
 ragged and bleeding, in the company of the landlord; when 
 he saw both change color and seek to avoid his questions; 
 and, above all, when the former denied his own identity 
 with the most unmoved assurance, he speedily forgot the 
 Saints and Fathers in the vulgar interest of curiosity. 
 
 "I cannot be mistaken," thought he. "That is Mr. 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 123 
 
 Hartley beyond a doubt. How comes he in such a pickle? 
 why does he deny his name? and what can be his business 
 with that black-looking ruffian, my landlord?" 
 
 As he was thus reflecting, another peculiar circumstance 
 attracted his attention. The face of Mr. Raeburn ap- 
 peared at a low window next the door; and, as chance 
 directed, his eyes met those of Mr. Rolles. The nursery- 
 man seemed disconcerted, and even alarmed; and imme- 
 'diately after the blind of the apartment was pulled sharply 
 down. 
 
 "This may all be very well," reflected Mr. Rolles; "it 
 may be all excellently well ; but I confess freely that I do 
 not think so. Suspicious, underhand, untruthful, fearful 
 of observation — I believe upon my soul," he thought, 
 "the pair are plotting some disgraceful action." 
 
 The detective that there is in all of us awoke and be- 
 came clamant in the bosom of Mr. Rolles; and with a 
 brisk, eager step, that bore no reseniblance to his usual 
 gait, he proceeded to make the circuit of the garden. 
 When he came to the scene of Harry's escalade, his eye 
 was at once arrested by a broken rosebud and marks of 
 trampling on the mole. He looked up, and saw scratches 
 on the brick, and a rag of trouser floating from a broken 
 bottle. This, then, was the mode of entrance chosen by 
 Mr. Raeburn 's particular friend ! It was thus that Gen- 
 eral Vandeleur's secretary came to admire a flower-garden ! 
 The young clergyman whistled softly to himself as he 
 stooped to examine the ground. He could make out 
 where Harry had landed from his perilous leap; he recog- 
 nized the flat foot of Mr. Raeburn where it had sunk 
 deeply in the soil as he pulled up the Secretary by the 
 collar; nay, on a closer inspection, he seemed to dis- 
 tinguish the marks of groping fingers, as though some- 
 thing had been spilt abroad and eagerly collected. 
 
124 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Upon my word," he thought, "the thing grows vastly 
 interesting." 
 
 And just then he caught sight of something almost en- 
 tirely buried in the earth. In an instant he had disin- 
 terred a dainty morocco case, ornamented and clasped in 
 gilt. It had been trodden heavily under foot, and thus 
 escaped the hurried search of Mr. Raeburn. Mr. Rolles 
 opened the case, and drew a long breath of almost horri- 
 fied astonishment; for there lay before him, in a cradle 
 of green velvet, a diamond of prodigious magnitude and 
 of the finest water. It was of the bigness of a duck's 
 egg; beautifully shaped, and without a flaw; and as the 
 sun shone upon it, it gave forth a lustre like that of elec- 
 tricity, and seemed to burn in his hand with a thousand 
 internal fires. 
 
 He knew little of precious stones; but the Rajah's 
 Diamond was a wonder that explained itself; a village 
 child, if he found it, would run screaming for the nearest 
 cottage; and a savage would prostrate himself in adora- 
 tion before so imposing a fetish. The beauty of the stone 
 flattered the young clergyman's eyes; the thought of its 
 incalculable value overpowered his intellect. He knew 
 that what he held in his hand was worth more than many 
 years' purchase of an archiepiscopal see; that it would 
 build cathedrals more stately than Ely or Cologne; that 
 he who possessed it was set free for ever from the primal 
 curse, and might follow his own inclinations without 
 concern or hurry, without let or hindrance. And as he 
 suddenly turned it, the rays leaped forth again with re- 
 newed brilliancy, and seemed to pierce his very heart. 
 
 Decisive actions are often taken in a moment and with- 
 out any conscious deliverance from the rational parts of 
 man. So it was now with Mr. Rolles. He glanced hur- 
 riedly round; beheld, like Mr, Raeburn before him, noth- 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 125 
 
 ing but the sunlit flower-garden, the tall tree-tops, and 
 the house with blinded windows; and in a trice he had 
 shut the case, thrust it into his pocket, and was hastening 
 to his study with the speed of guilt. 
 
 The Reverend Simon Rolles had stolen the Rajah's 
 Diamond. 
 
 Early in the afternoon the police arrived with Harry 
 Hartley. The nurseryman, who was beside himself with 
 terror, readily discovered his hoard ; and the jewels were 
 identified and inventoried in the presence of the secre- 
 tary. As for Mr. Rolles, he showed himself in a most 
 obliging temper, communicated what he knew with free- 
 dom, and professed regret that he could do no more to 
 help the officers in their duty. 
 
 "Still," he added, "I suppose your business is nearly 
 at an end." 
 
 "By no means," replied the man from Scotland Yard; 
 and he narrated the second robbery of which Harry had 
 been the immediate victim, and gave the young clergy- 
 man a description of the more important jewels that 
 were still not found, dilating particularly on the Rajah's 
 Diamond. 
 
 "It must be worth a fortune," observed Mr. Rolles. 
 
 "Ten fortunes — twenty fortunes," cried the officer. 
 
 "The more it is worth," remarked Simon, shrewdly, 
 * 'the more difficult it must be to sell. Such a thing has 
 a physiognomy not to be disguised, and I should fancy a 
 man might as easily negotiate St. Paul's Cathedral." 
 
 "Oh, truly!" said the officer; "but if the thief be a 
 man of any intelligence, he will cut it into three or four, 
 and there will be still enough to make him rich." 
 
 ' 'Thank you, ' ' said the clergyman. ' 'You cannot imagine 
 how much your conversation interests me. ' ' 
 
 Whereupon the functionary admitted that they knew 
 
126 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 many strange things in his profession, and immediately 
 after took his leave. 
 
 Mr. RoUes regained his apartment. It seemed smaller 
 and barer than usual; the materials for his great work 
 had never presented so little interest; and he looked upon 
 his library with the eye of scorn. He took down, volume 
 by volume, several Fathers of the Church, and glanced 
 them through; but they contained nothing to his purpose. 
 
 "These old gentlemen, " thought he, "are no doubt very 
 valuable writers, but they seem to me conspicuously ig- 
 norant of life. Here am I, with learning enough to be 
 a Bishop, and I positively do not know how to dispose of a 
 stolen diamond. I glean a hint from a common policeman, 
 and, with all my folios, I cannot so much as put it into 
 execution. This inspires me with very low ideas of 
 University training." 
 
 Herewith he kicked over his book-shelf and, putting on 
 his hat, hastened from the house to the club of which he 
 was a member. In such a place of mundane resort he 
 hoped to find some man of good counsel and a shrewd 
 experience in life. In the reading-room he saw many of 
 the country clergy and an Archdeacon; there were three 
 journalists and a writer upon the Higher Metaphysic, 
 playing pool; and at dinner only the raif of ordinary club 
 frequenters showed their commonplace and obliterated 
 countenances. None of these, thought Mr. Rolles, would 
 know more on dangerous topics than he knew himself; 
 none of them were fit to give him guidance in his present 
 strait. At length, in the smoking-room, up many weary 
 stairs, he hit upon a gentleman of somewhat portly build 
 and dressed with conspicuous plainness. He was smoking 
 a cigar and reading the Fortnightly Review; his face was 
 singularly free from all sign of preoccupation or fatigue; 
 and there was something in his air which seemed to invite 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 127 
 
 confidence and to expect submission. The more the young 
 clergyman scrutinized his features, the more he was con- 
 vinced that he had fallen on one capable of giving perti- 
 nent advice. 
 
 "Sir," said he, "you will excuse my abruptness; but I 
 judge you from your appearance to be preeminently a 
 man of the world." 
 
 "I have indeed considerable claims to that distinction," 
 replied the stranger, laying aside his magazine with a 
 look of mingled amusement and surprise. 
 
 "I, sir," continued the Curate, "am a recluse, a stu- 
 dent, a creature of ink-bottles and patristic folios. A 
 recent event has brought my folly vividly before my eyes, 
 and I desire to instruct myself in life. By life, ' ' he added, 
 "I do not mean Thackeray's novels; but the crimes and 
 secret possibilities of our society, and the principles of 
 wise conduct among exceptional events. I am a patient 
 reader; can the thing be learnt in books?" 
 
 "You put me in a difficulty," said the stranger. "I 
 confess I have no great notion of the use of books, except 
 to amuse a railway journey; although, I believe, there are 
 some very exact treatises on astronomy, the use of the 
 globes, agriculture, and the art of making paper flowers. 
 Upon the less apparent provinces of life I fear you will 
 find nothing truthful. Yet stay," he added, "have you 
 read Gaboriau?" 
 
 Mr. RoUes admitted he had never even heard the 
 name. 
 
 "You may gather some notions from Gaboriau," re- 
 sumed the stranger. "He is at least suggestive; and as 
 he is an author much studied by Prince Bismarck, you 
 will, at the worst, lose your time in good society." 
 
 "Sir," said the Curate, "I am infinitely obliged by 
 your politeness." 
 
128 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "You have already more than repaid me," returned the 
 other. 
 
 "How?" inquired Simon. 
 
 "By the novelty of your request," replied the gentle- 
 man; and with a polite gesture, as though to ask permis- 
 sion, he resumed the study of the Fortnightly Review. 
 
 On his way home Mr. Rolles purchased a work on 
 precious stones and several of Gaboriau's novels. These 
 last he eagerly skimmed until an advanced hour in the 
 morning; but although they introduced him to many new 
 ideas, he could nowhere discover what td do with a stolen 
 diamond. He was annoyed, moreover, to find the infor- 
 mation scattered amongst romantic story-telling, instead 
 of soberly set forth after the manner of a manual; and he 
 concluded that, even if the writer had thought much upon 
 these subjects, he was totally lacking in educational 
 method. For the character and attainments of Lecoq, 
 however, he was unable to contain his admiration. 
 
 "He was truly a great creature, ' ' ruminated Mr. Rolles. 
 "He knew the world as I know Paley's Evidences. There 
 was nothing that he could not carry to a termination with 
 his own hand, and against the largest odds. Heavens!" 
 he broke out suddenly, "is not this the lesson? Must 1 
 not learn to cut diamonds for myself?" 
 
 It seemed to him as if he had sailed at once out of his 
 perplexities; he remembered that he knew a jeweller, one 
 B. MaccuUoch, in Edinburgh, who would be glad to put 
 him in the way of the necessary training; a few months, 
 perhaps a few years, of sordid toil, and he would be 
 sufficiently expert to divide and sufficiently cunning to 
 dispose with advantage of the Rajah's Diamond. That 
 done, he might return to pursue his researches at leisure, 
 a wealthy and luxurious student, envied and respected by 
 all. Golden visions attended him through his slumber, 
 
THE RAJAH'S DUMOND 12S 
 
 and he awoke refreshed and light-hearted with the morn- 
 ing sun. 
 
 Mr. Raebum's house was on that day to be closed by 
 the police, and this afforded a pretext for his departure. 
 He cheerfully prepared his baggage, transported it to 
 King's Cross, where he left it in the cloak-room, and 
 returned to the club to while away the afternoon and dine. 
 
 "If you dine here to-day, RoUes," observed an ac- 
 quaintance, "you may see two of the most remarkable 
 men in England — Prince Florizel of Bohemia, and old 
 Jack Vandeleur. ' ' 
 
 "I have heard of the Prince," replied Mr. Rolles; "and 
 General Vandeleur I have even met in society. ' ' 
 
 "General Vandeleur is an ass!" returned the other. 
 "This is his brother John, the biggest adventurer, the 
 best judge of precious stones, and one of the most acute 
 diplomatists in Europe. Have you never heard of his 
 duel with the Due de Val d'Orge? of his exploits and 
 atrocities when he was Dictator of Paraguay? of his dex- 
 terity in recovering Sir Samuel Levy's jewelry? nor of 
 his services in the Indian Mutiny — services by which the 
 Government profited, but which the Government dared 
 not recognize? You make me wonder what we mean by 
 fame, or even by infamy; for Jack Vandeleur has prodig- 
 ious claims to both. Run down stairs," he continued, 
 "take a table near them, and keep your ears open. You 
 will hear some strange talk, or I am much misled." 
 
 "But how shall I know them?" inquired the clergy- 
 man. 
 
 "Know them!" cried his friend; "why, the Prince is 
 the finest gentleman in Europe, the only living creature 
 who looks like a king; and as for Jack Vandeleur, if you 
 can imagine Ulysses at seventy years of age, and with a 
 sabre-cut across his face, you have the man before you? 
 
130 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 Know them, indeed! Why, you could pick either of them 
 out of a Derby day!" 
 
 Rolles eagerly hurried to the dining-room. It was as 
 his friend had asserted ; it was impossible to mistakfe the 
 pair in question. Old John Vandeleur was of remarkable 
 force of body, and obviously broken to the most difficult 
 exercises. He had neither the carriage of a swordsman, 
 nor of a sailor, nor yet of one much inured to the saddle; 
 but something made up of all these, and the result and 
 expression of many different habits and dexterities. His 
 features were bold and aquiline; his expression arrogant 
 and predatory; his whole appearance that of a swift, vio- 
 lent, unscrupulous man of action; and his copious white 
 hair and the deep sabre-cut that traversed his nose and 
 temple added a note of savagery to a head already 
 remarkable and menacing in itself. 
 
 In his companion, the Prince of Bohemia, Mr. Rolles 
 was astonished to recognize the gentleman who had recom- 
 mended him the study of Gaboriau. Doubtless Prince 
 Florizel, who rarely visited the club, of which, as of most 
 others, he was an honorary member, had been waiting for 
 John Vandeleur when Simon accosted him on the previous 
 evening. 
 
 The other diners had modestly retired into the angles of 
 the room, and left the distinguished pair in a certain 
 isolation, but the young clergjTnan was unrestrained by 
 any sentiment of awe, and, marching up, took his place 
 at the nearest table. 
 
 The conversation was, indeed, new to the student's ears. 
 The ex-Dictator of Paraguay stated many extraordinary 
 experiences in different quarters of the world ; and the 
 Prince supplied a commentary which, to a man of thought, 
 was even more interesting than the events themselves. 
 Two forms of experience were thus brought together and 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 131 
 
 laid before the young clergyman; and he did not know 
 which to admire the most — the desperate actor or the 
 skilled expert in life; the man who spoke boldly of his 
 own deeds and perils, or the man who seemed, like a god, 
 to know all things and to have suffered nothing. The 
 manner of each aptly fitted with his part in the discourse. 
 The Dictator indulged in brutalities alike of speech and 
 gesture; his hand opened and shut and fell roughly on the 
 table; and his voice was loud and heady. The Prince, on 
 the other hand, seemed the very type of urbane docility 
 and quiet; the least movement, the least inflection, had 
 with him a weightier significance than all the sh uts and 
 pantomime of his companion; and if ever, as must fre- 
 quently have been the case, he described some experience 
 personal to himself, it was so aptly dissimulated as to pass 
 unnoticed with the rest. 
 
 At length the talk wandered on to the late robberies 
 and the Rajah's Diamond. 
 
 "That diamond would be better in the sea," observed 
 Prince Plorizel. 
 
 "As a Vandeleur," replied the Dictator, "your High- 
 ness may imagine my dissent. ' ' 
 
 "I speak on grounds of public policy," pursued the 
 Prince. "Jewels so valuable should be reserved for the 
 collection of a Prince or the treasury of a great nation. 
 To hand them about among the common sort of men is to 
 set a price on Virtue's head; and if the Rajah of Kashgar 
 — a Prince, I understand, of great enlightenment — desired 
 vengeance upon the men of Europe, he could hardly have 
 gone more efficaciously about his purpose than by sending 
 us this apple of discord. There is no honesty too robust 
 for such a trial. I myself, who have many duties and 
 privileges of my own — I myself, Mr. Vandeleur, could 
 scarcely handle the intoxicating crystal and be safe. As 
 
132 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 for you, who are a diamond-hunter by taste and profes- 
 sion, I do not believe there is a crime in the calendar you 
 would not perpetrate — I do not believe you have a friend 
 in the world whom you would not eagerly betray — I do 
 not know if you have a family, but if you have I declare 
 you would sacrifice your children — and all this for what? 
 Not to be richer, nor to have more comforts or more 
 respect, but simply to call this diamond yours for a year 
 or two until you die, and now and again to open a safe 
 and look at it as one looks at a picture." 
 
 "It is true," replied Vandeleur. "I have hunted most 
 things, from men and women down to mosquitoes; I have 
 dived for coral; I have followed both whales and tigers; 
 and a diamond is the tallest quarry of the lot. It has 
 beauty and worth; it alone can properly reward the ardors 
 of the chase. At this moment, as your Highness may 
 fancy, I am upon the trail ; I have a sure knack, a wide 
 experience; I know every stone of price in my brother's 
 collection as a shepherd knows his sheep; and I wish I 
 may die if I do not recover them every one!" 
 
 "Sir Thomas Vandeleur will have great cause to thank 
 you," said the Prince. 
 
 "I am not so sure," returned the Dictator, with a 
 laugh. "One of the Vandeleurs will. Thomas or John 
 — Peter or Paul — ^we are all apostles." 
 
 "I did not catch your observation," said the Prince 
 with some disgust. 
 
 And at the same moment the waiter informed Mr. 
 Vandeleur that his cab was at the door. 
 
 Mr. Rolles glanced at the clock, and saw that he also 
 must be moving; and the coincidence struck him sharply 
 and unpleasantly, for he desired to see no more of the 
 diamond hunter. 
 
 Much study having somewhat shaken the young man'a 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 133 
 
 nerves, he was in the habit of traveling in the most 
 luxurious manner; and for the present journey he had 
 taken a sofa in the sleeping carriage. 
 
 "You will be very comfortable, " said the guard; "there 
 is no one in your compartment, and only one old gentle- 
 man in the other end." 
 
 It was close upon the hour, and the tickets were being 
 examined, when Mr. RoUes beheld this other fellow- 
 passenger ushered by several porters into his place; cer- 
 tainly, there was not another man in the world whom he 
 would not have preferred — for it was old John Vandeleur, 
 the ex-Dictator. 
 
 The sleeping carriages on the Great Northern line were 
 divided into three compartments — one at each end for 
 travelers, and one in the centre fitted with the conveni- 
 ences of a lavatory. A door running in grooves separated 
 each of the others from the lavatory; but as there were 
 neither bolts nor locks, the whole suite was practically 
 common ground. 
 
 When Mr. RoUes had studied his position, he perceived 
 himself without defence. If the Dictator chose to pay 
 him a visit in the course of the night, he could do no less 
 than receive it; he had no means of fortification, and lay 
 open to attack as if he had been lying in the fields. This 
 situation caused him some agony of mind. He recalled 
 with alarm the boastful statements of his fellow-traveler 
 across the dining-table, and the professions of immorality 
 which he had heard him offering to the disgusted Prince. 
 Some persons, he remembered to have read, are endowed 
 with a singular quickness of perception for the neighbor- 
 hood of precious metals; through walls and even at con- 
 siderable distances they are said to divine the presence 
 of gold. Might it not be the same with diamonds? he 
 wondered: and if so. who was more likely to enjoy this 
 
134 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 transcendental sense than the person who gloried in the 
 appellation of the Diamond Hunter? From such a man 
 he recognized that he had everything to fear, and longed 
 eagerly for the arrival of the day. 
 
 In the meantime he neglected no precaution, concealed 
 his diamond in the most internal pocket of a system of 
 great coats, and devoutly recommended himself to the 
 care of Providence. 
 
 The train pursued its usual even and rapid course; and 
 nearly half the journey had been accomplished before 
 slumber began to triumph over uneasiness in the breast 
 of Mr. RoUes. For some time he resisted its influence; 
 but it grew upon him more and more, and a little before 
 York he was fain to stretch himself upon one of the 
 couches and suffer his eyes to close; and almost at the 
 same instant consciousness deserted the young clergyman. 
 His last thought was of his terrifying neighbor. 
 
 When he awoke it was still pitch dark, except for the 
 flicker of the veiled lamp; and the continual roaring and 
 oscillation testified to the unrelaxed velocity of the train. 
 He sat upright in a panic, for he had been tormented by 
 the most uneasy dreams; it was some seconds before he 
 recovered his self-command; and even after he had re- 
 sumed a recumbent attitude sleep continued to flee him, 
 and he lay awake with his brain in a state of violent 
 agitation, and his eyes fixed upon the lavatory door. He 
 pulled his clerical felt hat over his brow still farther to 
 shield him from the light; and he adopted the usual 
 expedients, such as counting a thousand or banishing 
 thought, by which experienced invalids are accustomed 
 to woo the approach of sleep. In the case of Mr. Rolles 
 they proved one and all vain; he was harassed by a dozen 
 different anxieties — the old man in the other end of the 
 carriage haunted him in the most alarming shapes; and 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 135 
 
 in whatever attitude he chose to lie the diamond in his 
 pocket occasioned him a sensible physical distress. It 
 burned, it was too large, it bruised his ribs; and there 
 were infinitesimal fractions of a second in which he had 
 half a mind to throw it from the window. 
 
 While he was thus lying, a strange incident took place. 
 
 The sliding-door into the lavatory stirred a little, and 
 then a little more, and was finally drawn back for the 
 space of about twenty inches. The lamp in the lavatory 
 was unshaded, and in the lighted aperture thus disclosed, 
 Mr. Rolles [could see the head of Mr. Vandeleur in an 
 attitude of deep attention. He was conscious that the 
 gaze of the Dictator rested intently on his own face; and 
 the instinct of self-preservation moved him to hold his 
 breath, to refrain from the least movement, and keeping 
 his eyes lowered, to watch his visitor from underneath 
 the lashes. After about a moment, the head was with- 
 drawn and the door of the lavatory replaced. 
 
 The Dictator had not come to attack, but to observe; 
 his action was not that of a man threatening another, but 
 that of a man who was himself threatened; if Mr. Rolles 
 was afraid of him, it appeared that he, in his turn, was 
 not quite easy on the score of Mr. Rolles. He had come, 
 it would seem, to make sure that his only fellow-traveler 
 was asleep; and, when satisfied on that point, he had at 
 once withdrawn. 
 
 The clergyman leaped to his feet. The extreme of 
 terror had given place to a reaction of foolhardy daring. 
 He reflected that the rattle of the flying train concealed 
 all other sounds, and determined, come what might, to 
 feturn the visit he had just received. Divesting himself 
 of his cloak, which might have interfered with the free- 
 dom of his action, he entered the lavatory and paused to 
 listen. As he had expected, there was nothing to be 
 
136 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 heard above the roar of the train's progress; and laying 
 his hand on the door at the farther side, he proceeded 
 cautiously to draw it back for about six inches. Then he 
 stopped, and could not contain an ejaculation of surprise. 
 
 John Vandeleur wore a fur traveling cap with lappets 
 to protect his ears; and this may have combined with the 
 sound of the express to keep him in ignorance of what 
 was going forward. It is certain, at least, that he did 
 not raise his head, but continued without interruption to 
 pursue his strange employment. Between his feet stood 
 an open hat-box; in one hand he held the sleeve of his 
 sealskin great-coat; in the other a formidable knife, with 
 which he had just slit up the lining of the sleeve. Mr. 
 Holies had read of persons carrying money in a belt; and 
 as he had no acquaintance with any but cricket-belts, he 
 had never been able rightly to conceive how this was 
 managed. But here was a stranger thing before his eyes; 
 for John Vandeleur, it appeared, carried diamonds in the 
 lining of his sleeve; and even as the young clergyman 
 gazed, he could see one glittering brilliant drop after 
 another into the hat-box. 
 
 He stood riveted to the spot, following this unusual 
 business with his eyes. The diamonds were, for the most 
 part, small, and not easily distinguishable either in shape 
 or fire. Suddenly the Dictator appeared to find a diffi- 
 culty; he employed both hands and stooped over his task; 
 but it was not until after considerable manoeuvring that 
 he extricated a large tiara of diamonds from the lining, 
 and held it up for some seconds' examination before he 
 placed it with the others in the hat-box. The tiara was 
 a ray of light to Mr. Rolles; he immediately recognized 
 it for a part of the treasure stolen from Harry Hartley 
 by the loiterer. There was no room for mistake; it was 
 exactly as the detective had described it; there were the 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 137 
 
 ruby stars, with a great emerald in the centre; there 
 were the interlacing crescents; and there were the pear- 
 shaped pendants, each a single stone, which gave a special 
 value to Lady Vandelenr's tiara. 
 
 Mr. RoUes was hugely relieved. The Dictator was as 
 deeply in the affair as he was; neither could tell tal^ 
 upon the other. In the first glow of happiness, the 
 clergyman suffered a deep sigh to escape him; and as his 
 bosom had become choked and his throat dry during his 
 previous suspense, the sigh was followed by a cough. 
 
 Mr. Vandeleur looked up; his face contracted with the 
 blackest and most deadly passion; his eyes opened widely, 
 and his under jaw dropped in an astonishment that was 
 upon the brink of fury. By an instinctive movement he 
 had covered the hat-box with the coat. For half a minute 
 the two men stared upon each other in silence. It was 
 not a long interval, but it sufficed for Mr. Holies; he was 
 one of those who think swiftly on dangerous occasions; 
 he decided on a course of action of a singularly daring 
 nature; and although he felt he was setting his life ui)on 
 the hazard, he was the first to break silence. 
 
 "I b^ your pardon," said he. 
 
 The Dictator shivered slightly, and when he spoke his 
 voice was hoarse. 
 
 "What do you want here?" he asked. 
 
 "I take a particular interest in diamonds," replied Mr. 
 RoUes, with an air of perfect self-possession. "Two 
 connoisseurs should be acquainted. I have here a trifle 
 of my own which may perhaps serve for an introduction." 
 
 And so saying, he quietly took the case from his pocket, 
 showed the Rajah's Diamond to the Dictator for an in- 
 stant, and replaced it in security. 
 
 "It was once your brother's," he added. 
 
 John Vandeleur continued to regard him with a look of 
 
138 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 almost painful amazement; but he neither spoke nor 
 moved. 
 
 "I was pleased to observe," resumed the young man, 
 "that we have gems from the same collection." 
 
 The Dictator's surprise overpowered him. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," he said; "I begin to perceive 
 that I am growing old! I am positively not prepared for 
 little incidents like this. But set my mind at rest upon 
 one point: do my eyes deceive me, or are you indeed a 
 parson?" 
 
 "I am in holy orders," answered Mr. RoUes. 
 
 "Well," cried the other, "as long as I live I will never 
 hear another word against the cloth!" 
 
 "You flatter me," said Mr. Rolles. 
 
 "Pardon me," replied Vandeleur; "pardon me, young 
 man. You are no coward, but it still remains to be seen 
 whether you are not the worst of fools. Perhaps, ' ' he 
 continued, leaning back upon his seat, "perhaps you would 
 oblige me with a few particulars. I must suppose you 
 had some object in the stupefying impudence of your 
 proceedings, and I confess I have a curiosity to know 
 it." 
 
 "It is very simple, " replied the clergyman; "it pro- 
 ceeds from my great inexperience of life." 
 
 "I shall be glad to be persuaded, " answered Vandeleur. 
 
 Whereupon Mr. Rolles told him the whole story of his 
 connection with the Rajah's Diamond, from the time he 
 found it in Raeburn's garden to the time when he left 
 London in the Flying Scotchman. He added a brief sketch 
 of his feelings and thoughts during the journey, and 
 concluded in these words: 
 
 "When I recognized the tiara I knew we were in the 
 same attitude towards Society, and this inspired me with 
 a hope, which I trust you will say was not ill-founded. 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 139 
 
 that you might become in some sense my partner in the 
 difficulties and, of course, the profits of my situation. To 
 one of your special knowledge and obviously great experi- 
 ence the negotiation of the diamond would give but little 
 trouble, while to me it was a matter of impossibility. 
 On the other part, I judged that I might lose nearly as 
 much by cutting the diamond, and that not improbably 
 with an unskilful hand, as might enable me to pay you 
 with proper generosity for your assistance. The subject 
 was a delicate one to broach; and perhaps I fell short in 
 delicacy. But I must ask you to remember that for me 
 the situation was a new one, and I was entirely unac- 
 quainted with the etiquette in use. I believe without 
 vanity that I could have married or baptized you in a 
 very acceptable manner; but every man has his own apti- 
 tudes, and this sort of bargain was not among the list of 
 my accomplishments." 
 
 "I do not wish to flatter you," replied Vandeleur; "but 
 upon my word, you have an unusual disposition for a life 
 of crime. You have more accomplishments than you 
 imagine; and though I have encountered a number of 
 rogues in different quarters of the world, I never met 
 with one so unblushing as yourself. Cheer up, Mr. Rolles, 
 you are in the right profession at last! As for helping 
 you, you may command me as you will. I have only a 
 day's business in Edinburgh on a little matter for my 
 brother; and once that is concluded, I return to Paris, 
 where I usually reside. If you please, you may accompany 
 me thither. And before the end of a month I believe I 
 shall have brought your little business to a satisfactory 
 conclusion." 
 
 (At this point, contrary to all the canons of his art, 
 our Arabian Author breaks off the Story op the Young 
 Man in Holy Orders. / regret and condemn such prac- 
 
140 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 tices ; hut I must follow my original, and refer the reader 
 for the conclusion of Mr. Rolles's adventures to the next 
 number of the cycle, The Story of the House with the 
 Green Bunds.) 
 
 THE STORY OF THE HOUSE WITH THE 
 GREEN BLINDS 
 
 Francis Scrymgeour, a clerk in the Bank of Scotland at 
 Edinburgh, had attained the age of twenty-five in a sphere 
 of quiet, creditable, and domestic life. His mother died 
 while he was young; but his father, a man of sense and 
 probity, had given him an excellent education at school, 
 and brought him up at home to orderly and frugal habits. 
 Francis, who was of a docile and affectionate disposition, 
 profited by these advantages with zeal, and devoted him- 
 self heart and soul to his employment. A walk upon 
 Saturday afternoon, an occasional dinner with members of 
 his family, and a yearly tour of a fortnight in the High- 
 lands or even on the continent of Europe, were his princi- 
 pal distractions, and he grew rapidly in favor with his 
 superiors, and enjoyed already a salary of nearly two 
 hundred pounds a year, with the prospect of an ultimate 
 advance to almost double that amount. Few young men 
 were more contented, few more willing and laborious 
 than Francis Scrymgeour. Sometimes at night, when he 
 had read the daily paper, he would play upon the flute to 
 amuse his father, for whose qualities he entertained a 
 great respect. 
 
 One day he received a note from a well-known firm of 
 Writers to the Signet, requesting the favor of an imme- 
 diate interview with him. The letter was marked ' 'Private 
 and Confidential, ' ' and had been addressed to him at the 
 
THE rajah's diamond 141 
 
 bank, instead of at home — two unusual circumstances 
 which made him obey the summons with the more alac- 
 rity. The senior member of the firm, a man of much 
 austerity of manner, made him gravely welcome, requested 
 him to take a seat, and proceeded to explain the matter 
 in hand in the picked expressions of a veteran man of 
 business. A person, who must remain nameless, but of 
 whom the lawyer had every reason to think well — a man, 
 in short, of some station in the country — desired to make 
 Francis an annual allowance of five hundred pounds. The 
 capital was to be placed under the control of the lawyer's 
 firm and two trustees who must also remain anonymous. 
 There were conditions annexed to this liberality, but he 
 was of opinion that his new client would find nothing 
 either excessive or dishonorable in the terms; and he re- 
 peated these two words with emphasis, as though he 
 desired to commit himself to nothing more. 
 
 Francis asked their nature. 
 
 "The conditions," said the Writer to the Signet, "are, 
 as I have twice remarked, neither dishonorable nor exces- 
 sive. At the same time I cannot conceal from you that 
 they are most unusual. Indeed, the whole case is very 
 much out of our way; and I should certainly have refused 
 it had it not been for the reputation of the gentleman 
 who entrusted it to my care, and, let me add, Mr. Scrym- 
 geour, the interest I have been led to take in yourself by 
 many complimentary and, I have no doubt, well-deserved 
 reports. ' ' 
 
 Francis entreated him to be more specific. 
 
 "You cannot picture my uneasiness as to these condi- 
 tions," he said. 
 
 "They are two," replied the lawyer, "only two; and 
 the sum, as you will remember, is five hundred a year — 
 and unburthened, I forgot to add, unburdened. ' ' 
 
142 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 And the lawyer raised his eyebrows at him with solemn 
 gusto. 
 
 "The first," he resumed, "is of remarkable simplicity. 
 You must be in Paris by the afternoon of Sunday, the 
 15th; there you will find, at the box-oflace of the Comedie 
 Francaise, a ticket for admission taken in your name and 
 waiting you. You are requested to sit out the whole 
 performance in the seat provided, and that is all. ' ' 
 
 "I should certainly have preferred a week-day," replied 
 Francis. "But, after all, once in a way " 
 
 "And in Paris, my dear sir," added the lawyer, sooth- 
 ingly. ' 'I believe I am something of a precisian myself, 
 but upon such a consideration, and in Paris, I should not 
 hesitate an instant." 
 
 And the pair laughed pleasantly together. 
 
 "The other is of more importance," continued the 
 Writer to the Signet. "It regards your marriage. My 
 client, taking a deep interest in your welfare, desires to 
 advise you absolutely in the choice of a wife. Absolutely, 
 you understand," he repeated. 
 
 "Let us be more explicit, if you please," returned 
 Francis. "Am I to marry anyone, maid or widow, black 
 or white, whom this invisible person chooses to propose?" 
 
 "I was to assure you that suitability of age and position 
 should be a principle with your benefactor, ' ' replied the 
 lawyer. "As to race, I confess the difficulty had not 
 occurred to me, and I failed to inquire; but if you like I 
 will make a note of it at once, and advise you on the 
 earliest opportunity." 
 
 "Sir," said Francis, "it remains to be seen whether 
 this whole affair is not a most unworthy fraud. The cir- 
 cumstances are inexplicable — I had almost said incredible; 
 and until I see a little more daylight, and some plausible 
 motive, I confess I should be very sorry to put a hand to 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 143 
 
 the transaction. I appeal to you in this difficulty for 
 information. I must learn what is at the bottom of it 
 all. If you do not know, cannot guess, or are not at 
 liberty to tell me, I shall take my hat and go back to my 
 bank as I came." 
 
 "I do not know, " answered the lawyer, "but I have an 
 excellent guess. Your father, and no one else, is at the 
 root of this apparently unnatural business." 
 
 "My father!" cried Francis, in extreme disdain. 
 "Worthy man, I know every thought of his mind, every 
 penny of his fortune!" 
 
 "You misinterpret my words," said the lawyer. "I 
 do not refer to Mr. Scrymgeour, senior; for he is not your 
 father. When he and his wife came to Edinburgh, you 
 were already nearly one year old, and you had not yet 
 been three months in their care. The secret has been well 
 kept; but such is the fact. Your father is unknown, and 
 I say again that I believe him to be the original of the 
 offers I am charged at present to transmit to you." 
 
 It would be impossible to exaggerate the astonishment 
 of Francis Scrymgeour at this unexpected information. 
 He pleaded this confusion to the lawyer. 
 
 "Sir," said he, "after a piece of news so startling, you 
 must grant me some hours for thought. You shall know 
 this evening what conclusion I have reached." 
 
 The lawyer commended his prudence; and Francis, ex- 
 cusing himself upon some pretext at the bank, took a long 
 walk into the country, and fully considered the different 
 steps and aspects of the case. A pleasant sense of his 
 own importance rendered him the more deliberate; but 
 the issue was from the first not doubtful. His whole 
 carnal man leaned irresistibly towards the five hundred a 
 year, and the strange conditions with which it was bur- 
 dened; he discovered in his heart an invincible repugnance 
 
144 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 to the name of Scrymgeour, which he had never hitherto 
 disliked ; he began to despise the narrow and unromantic 
 interest of his former life; and when once his mind was 
 fairly made up, he walked with a new feeling of strength 
 and freedom, and nourished himself with the gayest 
 anticipations. 
 
 He said but a word to the lawyer, and immediately re- 
 ceived a check for two quarters' arrears; for the allowance 
 was ante-dated from the first of January. With this in 
 his pocket, he walked home. The flat in Scotland Street 
 looked mean in his eyes; his nostrils, for the first time, 
 rebelled against the odor of broth; and he observed little 
 defects of manner in his adoptive father which filled him 
 with surprise and almost with disgust. The next day, he 
 determined, should see him on his way to Paris. 
 
 In that city, where he arrived long before the appointed 
 date, he put up at a modest hotel frequented by English 
 and Italians, and devoted himself to improvement in the 
 French tongue; for this purpose he had a master twice a 
 week, entered into conversation with loiterers in the 
 Champs Elysees, and nightly frequented the theatre. He 
 had his whole toilette fashionably renewed; and was 
 shaved and had his hair dressed every morning by a 
 barber in a neighboring street. This gave him something 
 of a foreign air, and seemed to wipe off the reproach of 
 his past years. 
 
 At length, on the Saturday afternoon, he betook himself 
 to the box-office of the theatre in the Rue Richelieu. No 
 sooner had he mentioned his name than the clerk produced 
 the order in an envelope of which the address was scarcely 
 dry. 
 
 "It has been taken this moment," said the clerk. 
 
 "Indeed!" said Francis. "May I ask what the gentle- 
 man was like?" 
 
THE rajah's diamond 145 
 
 "Your friend is easy to describe," replied the official. 
 "He is old and strong and beautiful, with white hair and 
 a sabre-cut across his face. You cannot fail to recognize 
 so marked a person." 
 
 "No, indeed," returned Francis; "and I thank you for 
 your politeness." 
 
 "He cannot yet be far distant," added the clerk. "If 
 you make haste you might still overtake him. ' ' 
 
 Francis did not wait to be twice told; he ran precipi- 
 tately from the theatre into the middle of the street and 
 looked in all directions. More than one white-haired 
 man was within sight; but though he overtook each of 
 them in succession, all wanted the sabre-cut. For nearly 
 half an hour he tried one street after another in the 
 neighborhood, until at length, recognizing the folly of 
 continued search, he started on a walk to compose his 
 agitated feelings; for this proximity of an encounter with 
 him to whom he could not doubt he owed the day had 
 profoundly moved the young man. 
 
 It chanced that his way lay up the Rue Drouot and 
 thence up the Rue des Martyrs; and chance, in this case, 
 served him better than all the forethought in the world. 
 For on the outer boulevard he saw two men in earnest 
 colloquy upon a seat. One was dark, young, and hand- 
 some, secularly dressed, but with an indelible clerical 
 stamp; the other answered in every particular to the 
 description given him by the clerk. Francis felt his heart 
 beat high in his bosom; he knew he was now about to 
 hear the voice of his father; and making a wide circuit, 
 he noiselessly took his place behind the couple in ques- 
 tion, who were too much interested in their talk to observe 
 much else. As Francis had expected, the conversation 
 was conducted in the English language. 
 
 "Your suspicions begin to annoy me, Rolles," said the 
 
146 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 older man. "I tell you I am doing my utmost; a man 
 cannot lay his hand on millions in a moment. Have I not 
 taken you up, a mere stranger, out of pure good-will? 
 Are you not living largely on my bounty?" 
 
 "On your advances, Mr. Vandeleur," corrected the 
 other. 
 
 I "Advances, if you choose; and interest instead of good- 
 will, if you prefer it," returned Vandeleur, angrily. "I 
 am not here to pick expressions. Business is business; 
 and your business, let me remind you, is too muddy for 
 such airs. Trust me, or leave me alone and find someone 
 else; but let us have an end, for God's sake, of your 
 jeremiads. ' ' 
 
 "I am beginning to learn the world," replied the 
 other, "and I see that you have every reason to play me 
 false, and not one to deal honestly. I am not here to pick 
 expressions either; you wish the diamond for yourself: 
 you know you do — ^you dare not deny it. Have you not 
 already forged my name, and searched my lodging in my 
 absence? I understand the cause of your delays; you are 
 lying in wait; you are the diamond-hunter, forsooth; and 
 sooner or later, by fair means or foul, you'll lay your 
 hands upon it. I tell you, it must stop; push me much 
 further and I promise you a surprise." 
 
 "It does not become you to use threats," returned 
 Vandeleur. ' 'Two can play at that. My brother is here 
 in Paris; the police are on the alert; and if you persist 
 in wearying me with your caterwauling, I will arrange a 
 little astonishment for you, Mr. RoUes. But mine shall 
 be once and for all. Do you understand, or would you 
 prefer me to tell it you in Hebrew? There is an end to 
 all things, and you have come to the end of my patience. 
 Tuesday, at seven; not a day, not an hour sooner, not the 
 least part of a second, if it were to save your life. And 
 
THE KAJAH'S DIAMOND 147 
 
 if you do not choose to wait, you may go to the bottomless 
 pit for me, and welcome." 
 
 And so saying, the Dictator arose from the bench, and 
 marched off in the direction of Montmartre, shaking his 
 head and swinging his cane with a most furious air; 
 while his companion remained where he was, in an attitude 
 of great dejection. 
 
 Francis was at the pitch of surprise and horror; his 
 sentiments had been shocked to the last degree; the hope- 
 ful tenderness with which he had taken his place upon the 
 bench was transformed into repulsion and despair; old 
 Mr. Scrymgeour, he reflected, was a far more kindly and 
 creditable parent than this dangerous and violent in- 
 triguer; but he retained his presence of mind, and suf- 
 fered not a moment to elapse before he was on the trail 
 of the Dictator. 
 
 That gentleman's fury carried him forward at a brisk 
 pace, and he was so completely occupied in his angry 
 thoughts that he never so much as cast a look behind him 
 till he reached his own door. 
 
 His house stood high up in the Rue Lepic, commanding 
 a view of all Paris and enjoying the pure air of the 
 heights. It was two stories high, with green blinds and 
 shutters; and all the windows looking on the street were 
 hermetically closed. Tops of trees showed over the high 
 garden wall, and the wall was protected by chevaux-de- 
 frise. The Dictator paused a moment while he searched 
 his pocket for a key; and then, opening a gate, disappeared 
 within the enclosure. 
 
 Francis looked about him; the neighborhood was very 
 lonely; the house isolated in its garden. It seemed as if 
 his observation must here come to an abrupt end. A 
 second glance, however, showed him a tall house next 
 door presenting a gable to the garden, and in this gable 
 
148 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 a single window. He passed to the front and saw a ticket 
 offering unfurnished lodgings by the month; and, on in- 
 quiry, the room which commanded the Dictator's garden 
 proved to be one of those to let. Francis did not hesitate 
 a moment; he took the room, paid an advance upon the 
 rent, and returned to his hotel to seek his baggage. 
 
 The old man with the sabre-cut might or might not be 
 his father; he might or he might not be on the true scent; 
 but he was certainly on the edge of an exciting mystery, 
 and he promised himself that he would not relax his 
 observation until he had got to the bottom of the secret. 
 
 From the window of his new apartment Francis Scrym- 
 geour commanded a complete view into the garden of the 
 house with the green blinds. Immediately below him a 
 very comely chestnut with wide boughs sheltered a pair 
 of rustic tables where people might dine in the height of 
 summer. On all sides save one a dense vegetation con- 
 cealed the soil: but there, between the tables and the 
 house, he saw a patch of gravel walk leading from the 
 veranda to the garden-gate. Studying the places from 
 between the boards of the Venetian shutter, which he 
 durst not open for fear of attracting attention, Francis 
 observed but little to indicate the manners of the inhabi- 
 tants, and that little argued no more than a close reserve 
 and a taste for solitude. The garden was conventual, the 
 house had the air of a prison. The green blinds were all 
 drawn down upon the outside; the door into the veranda 
 was closed ; the garden, as far as he could see it, was left 
 entirely to itself in the evening sunshine. A modest curl 
 of smoke from a single chimney alone testified to the 
 presence of living people. 
 
 In order that he might not be entirely idle, and to give 
 a certain color to his way of life, Francis had purchased 
 Euclid's Geometry in French, which he set himself to copy 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 149 
 
 and translate on the top of his portmanteau and seated on 
 the floor against the wall ; for he was equally without 
 chair or table. From time to time he would rise and cast 
 a glance into the enclosure of the house with the green 
 blinds; but the windows remained obstinately closed and 
 the garden empty. 
 
 Only late in the evening did anything occur to reward 
 his continued attention. Between nine and ten the sharp 
 tinkle of a bell aroused him from a fit of dozing; and he 
 sprang to his observatory in time to hear an important 
 noise of locks being opened and bars removed, and to see 
 Mr. Vandeleur, carrying a lantern and clothed in a flowing 
 robe of black velvet with a skull-cap to match, issue from 
 under the veranda and proceed leisurely toward the garden- 
 gate. The sound of bolts and bars was then repeated ; and 
 a moment after Francis perceived the Dictator escorting 
 into the house, in the mobile light of the lantern, an 
 individual of the lowest and most despicable appearance. 
 
 Half-an-hour afterward the visitor was reconducted to 
 the street; and Mr. Vandeleur, setting his light upon one 
 of the rustic tables, finished a cigar with great delibera- 
 tion under the foliage of the chestnut. Francis, peering 
 through a clear space among the leaves, was able to follow 
 his gestures as he threw away the ash or enjoyed a copious 
 inhalation; and beheld a cloud upon the old man's brow 
 and a forcible action of the lips, which testified to some 
 deep and probably painful train of thought. The cigar 
 was already almost at an end, when the voice of a young 
 girl was heard suddenly crying the hour from the interior 
 of the house. 
 
 "In a moment," replied John Vandeleur. 
 
 And, with that, he threw away the stump and, taking 
 up the lantern, sailed away under the veranda for the 
 night. As soon as the door was closed, absolute darkness 
 
150 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 fell upon the house; Francis might try his eyesight as 
 much as he pleased, he could not detect so much as a 
 single chink of light below a blind; and he concluded, 
 with great gobd sense, that the bed chambers were all 
 upon the other side. 
 
 Early the next morning (for he was early awake after 
 an uncomfortable night upon the floor), he saw cause to 
 adopt a different explanation. The blinds rose, one after 
 another, by means of a spring in the interior, and dis- 
 closed steel shutters such as we see on the front of shops; 
 these in their turn were rolled up by a similar contri- 
 vance; and for the space of about an hour, the chambers 
 were left open to the morning air. At the end of that 
 time Mr. Vandeleur, with his own hand, once more closed 
 the shutters and replaced the blinds from within. 
 
 While Francis was still marvelling at these precautions, 
 the door opened and a young girl came forth to look about 
 her in the garden. It was not two minutes before she 
 re-entered the house, but even in that short time he saw 
 enough to convince him that she possessed the most un- 
 usual attractions. His curiosity was not only highly 
 excited by this incident, but his spirits were improved to 
 a still more notable degree. The alarming manners and 
 more than equivocal life of his father ceased from that 
 moment to prey upon his mind; from that moment he 
 embraced his new family with ardor; and whether the 
 young lady should prove his sister or his wife, he felt 
 convinced she was an angel in disguise. So much was 
 this the case that he was seized with a sudden horror 
 when he reflected how little he really knew, and how pos- 
 sible it was that he followed the wrong person when he 
 followed Mr. Vandeleur. 
 
 The porter, whom he consulted, could afford him little 
 information; but, such as it was, it had a mysterious and 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 151 
 
 questionable sound. The person next door was an English 
 gentleman of extraordinary wealth, and proportionately 
 eccentric in his tastes and habits. He possessed great 
 collections, which he kept in the house beside him; and 
 it was to protect these that he had fitted the place with 
 steel shutters, elaborate fastenings and chevaux-de-frise 
 along the garden wall. He lived much alone, in spite of 
 some strange visitors with whom, it seemed, he had busi- 
 ness to transact; and there was no one in the house except 
 Mademoiselle and an old woman servant. 
 
 "Is Mademoiselle his daughter?" inquired Francis. 
 
 ' 'Certainly, ' ' replied the porter. "Mademoiselle is the 
 daughter of the house; and strange it is to see how she is 
 made to work. For all his riches, it is she who goes to 
 market; and everyday in the week you may see her going 
 by with a basket on her arm." 
 
 "And the collections?" asked the other. 
 
 "Sir," said the man, "they are immensely valuable. 
 More I cannot tell you. Since M. de Vandeleur's arrival 
 no one in the quarter has so much as passed the door. ' ' 
 
 "Suppose not," returned Francis, "you must surely 
 have some notion what these famous galleries contain. Is 
 it pictures, silks, statues, jewels, or what?" 
 
 "My faith, sir," said the fellow with a shrug, "it 
 might be carrots, and still I could not tell you. How 
 should I know? The house is kept like a garrison, as you 
 perceive. ' ' 
 
 And then as Francis was returning disappointed to his 
 room, the porter called him back. 
 
 "I have just remembered, sir," said he. "M. de 
 Vandeleur has been in all parts of the world, and I once 
 heard the old woman declare that he had brought many 
 diamonds back with him. If that be the truth, there 
 must be a fine show behind those shutters." 
 
152 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 By an early hour on Sunday Francis was in his place at 
 the theatre. The seat which had been taken for him was 
 only two or three numbers from the left-hand side, and 
 directly opposite one of the lower boxes. As the seat had 
 been specially chosen there was doubtless something to 
 be learned from its position; and he judged by an instinct 
 that the box upon his right was, in some way or other, to 
 be connected with the drama in which he ignorantly played 
 a part. Indeed it was so situated that its occupants could 
 safely observe him from beginning to end of the piece, if 
 they were so minded ; while, profiting by the depth, they 
 could screen themselves sufficiently well from any counter- 
 examination on his side. He promised himself not to 
 leave it for a moment out of sight; and whilst he scanned 
 the rest of the theatre, or made a show of attending to 
 the business of the stage, he always kept a corner of an 
 eye upon the empty box. 
 
 The second act had been some time in progress, and 
 was even drawing towards a close, when the door opened 
 and two persons entered and ensconced themselves in the 
 darkest of the shade. Francis could hardly control his 
 emotion. It was Mr. Vandeleur and his daughter. The 
 blood came and went in his arteries and veins with stun- 
 ning activity; his ears sang; his head turned. He dared 
 not look lest he should awake suspicion; his play-bill, 
 which he kept reading from end to end and over and over 
 again, turned from white to red before his eyes; and 
 when he cast a glance upon the stage, it seemed incalcu- 
 lably far away, and he found the voices and gestures of 
 the actors to the last degree impertinent and absurd. 
 
 From time to time he risked a momentary look in the 
 direction which principally arrested him; and once at 
 least he felt certain that his eyes encountered those of 
 the young girl. A shock passed over his body, and he 
 
THE rajah's diamond 153 
 
 saw all the colors of the rainbow. What would he not 
 have given to overhear what passed between the Vande- 
 leurs? What would he not have given for the courage to 
 take up his opera-glass and steadily inspect their attitude 
 and expression? There, for aught he knew, his whole 
 life was being decided — and he not able to interfere, not 
 able even to follow the debate, but condemned to sit and 
 suffer where he was, in impotent anxiety. 
 
 At last the act came to an end. The curtain fell, and 
 the people around him began to leave their places for the 
 interval. It was only natural that he should follow their 
 example; and if he did so, it was not only natural but 
 necessary that he should pass immediately in front of the 
 . box in question. Summoning all his courage, but keeping 
 his eyes lowered, Francis drew near the spot. His progress 
 was slow, for the old gentleman before him moved with 
 incredible deliberation, wheezing as he went. What was 
 he to do? Should he address the Vandeleurs by name as 
 he went by? Should he take the flower from his button- 
 hole and throw it into the box? Should he raise his face 
 and direct one long and affectionate look upon the lady 
 who was either his sister or his betrothed? As he found 
 himself thus struggling among so many alternatives, he 
 had a vision of his old equable existence in the bank, and 
 was assailed by a thought of regret for the past. 
 
 By this time he had arrived directly opposite the box; 
 and although he was still undetermined what to do or 
 whether to do anything, he turned his head and lifted his 
 eyes. No sooner had he done so than he uttered a cry of 
 disappointment and remained rooted to the spot. The 
 box was empty. During his slow advance Mr. Vandeleur 
 and his daughter had quietly slipped away. 
 
 A polite person in his rear reminded him that he was 
 stopping the path; and he moved on again with mechan- 
 
154 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 ical footsteps, and suffered the crowd to carry him un- 
 resisting out of the theatre. Once in the street, the 
 pressure ceasing, he came to a halt, and the eool night 
 air speedily restored him to the possession of his faculties. 
 He was surprised to find that his head ached violently, and 
 that he remembered not one word of the two acts which 
 he had witnessed. As the excitement wore away, it was 
 succeeded by an overweening appetite for sleep, and he 
 hailed a cab and drove to his lodging in a state of extreme 
 exhaustion and some disgust of life. 
 
 Next morning he lay in wait for Miss Vandeleur on her 
 road to market, and by eight o'clock beheld her stepping 
 down a lane. She was simply, and even poorly, attired; 
 but in the carriage of her head and body there was some- 
 thing flexible and noble that would have lent distinction 
 to the meanest toilette. Even her basket, so aptly did 
 she carry it, became her like an ornament. It seemed to 
 Francis, as he slipped into a doorway, that the sunshine 
 followed and the shadows fled before her as she walked ; 
 and he was conscious, for the first time, of a bird singing 
 in a cage above the lane. 
 
 He suffered her to pass the doorway, and then, coming 
 forth once more, addressed her by name from behind. 
 
 "Miss Vandeleur," said he. 
 
 She turned and, when she saw who he was, became 
 deadly pale. 
 
 "Pardon me," he continued; "Heaven knows I had no 
 will to startle you; and, indeed, there should be nothing 
 startling in the presence of one who wishes you so well as 
 I do. And, believe me, I am acting rather from necessity 
 than choice. We have many things in common, and I am 
 sadly in the dark. There is much that I should be doing, 
 and my hands are tied. I do not know even what to feel, 
 nor who are my friends and enemies. ' ' 
 
THE rajah's diamond 155 
 
 She found her voice with an effort. 
 
 "I do not know who you are," she said. 
 
 "Ah, yes! Miss Vandeleur, you do," returned Francis; 
 "better than I do myself. Indeed it is on that, above 
 all, that I seek light. Tell me what you know," he 
 pleaded. "Tell me who I am, who you are, and how our 
 destinies are intermixed. Give me a little help with my 
 life. Miss Vandeleur — only a word or two to guide me, 
 only the name of my father, if you will — and I shall be 
 grateful and content." 
 
 "I will not attempt to deceive you," she replied. "I 
 know who you are, but I am not at liberty to say." 
 
 "Tell me, at least, that you have forgiven my presump- 
 tion, and I shall wait with all the patience I have, ' ' he 
 said. "If I am not to know, I must do without. It is 
 cruel, but I can bear more upon a push. Only do not add 
 to my troubles the thought that I have made an enemy 
 of you." 
 
 "You did only what was natural," she said, "and I 
 have nothing to forgive you. Farewell." 
 
 "Is it to be farewell ?" he asked. 
 
 "Nay, that I do not know myself," she answered. 
 "Farewell for the present, if you like." 
 
 And with these words she was gone. 
 
 Francis returned to his lodging in a state of consider- 
 able commotion of mind. He made the most trifling 
 progress with his Euclid for that forenoon, and was more 
 often at the window than at his improvised writing-table. 
 But beyond seeing the return of Miss Vandeleur, and the 
 meeting between her and her father, who was smoking 
 a Trichinopoli cigar in the veranda, there was nothing 
 notable in the neighborhood of the house with the green 
 blinds before the time of the mid-day meal. The young 
 man hastily allayed his appetite in a neighboring restau- 
 
156 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 rant, and returned with the speed of unallayed curiosity 
 to the house in the Rue Lepic. A mounted servant was 
 leading a saddle-horse to and fro before the garden wall; 
 and the porter of Francis's lodging was smoking a pipe 
 against the door-post, absorbed in contemplation of the 
 livery and the steeds. 
 
 "Look!" he cried to the young man, "what fine cattle! 
 what an elegant costume! They belong to the brother of 
 M. de Vandeleur, who is now within upon a visit. He 
 is a great man, a general, in your country; and you 
 doubtless know him well by reputation." 
 
 "I confess," returned Francis, "that I have never heard 
 of General Vandeleur before. We have many officers 
 of that grade, and my pursuits have been exclusively 
 civil." 
 
 "It is he," replied the porter, "who lost the great 
 diamond of the Indies. Of that at least you must have 
 read often in the papers." 
 
 As soon as Francis could disengage himself from the 
 porter he ran up-stairs and hurried to the window. Im- 
 mediately below the clear space in the chestnut leaves, the 
 two gentlemen were seated in conversation, over a cigar. 
 The General, a red, military-looking man, offered some 
 traces of a family resemblance to his brother; he had 
 something of the same features, something, although very 
 little, of the same free and powerful carriage; but he was 
 older, smaller, and more common in air; his likeness was 
 that of a caricature, and he seemed altogether a poor and 
 debile being by the side of the Dictator. 
 
 They spoke in tones so low, leaning over the table with 
 every appearance of interest, that Francis could catch no 
 more than a word or two on an occasion. For as little as 
 he heard, he was convinced that the conversation turned 
 upon himself and his own career; several times the name 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 157 
 
 of Scrymgeour reached his ear, for it was easy to dis- 
 tinguish, and still more frequently he fancied he could 
 distinguish the name Francis. 
 
 At length the General, as if in a hot anger, broke forth 
 into several violent exclamations. 
 
 "Francis Vandeleur!" he cried, accentuating the last 
 word. "Francis Vandeleur, I tell you." 
 
 The Dictator made a movement of his whole body, 
 half affirmative, half contemptuous, but his answer was 
 inaudible to the young man. 
 
 Was he the Francis Vandeleur in question? he wondered. 
 Were they discussing the name under which he was to be 
 married? Or was the whole affair a dream and a delusion 
 of his own conceit and self-absorption? 
 
 After another interval of inaudible talk, dissension 
 seemed again to arise between the couple underneath the 
 chestnut, and again the General raised his voice angrily 
 so as to be audible to Francis. 
 
 "My wife?" he cried. "I have done with my wife for 
 good. I will not hear her name. I am sick of her very 
 name. ' ' 
 
 And he swore aloud and beat the table with his fist. 
 
 The Dictator appeared, by his gestures, to pacify him 
 after a paternal fashion; and a little after he conducted 
 him to the garden-gate. The pair shook hands affection- 
 ately enough; but as soon as the door had closed behind 
 his visitor, John Vandeleur fell into a fit of laughter 
 which sounded unkindly and even devilish in the ears of 
 Francis Scrymgeour. 
 
 So another day had passed, and little more learnt. But 
 the young man remembered that the morrow was Tuesday, 
 and promised himself some curious discoveries; all might 
 be well, or all might be ill ; he was sure, at least, to glean 
 some curious information, and, perhaps, by good luck. 
 
158 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 get at the heart of the mystery which surrounded his 
 father and his family. 
 
 As the hour of the dinner drew near many preparations 
 were made in the garden of the house with the green 
 blinds. The table which was partly visible to Francis 
 through the chestnut leaves was destined to serve as a 
 sideboard, and carried relays of plates and the materials 
 for salad: the other, which was almost entirely concealed, 
 had been set apart for the diners, and Francis could catch 
 glimpses of white cloth and silver plate. 
 
 Mr. RoUes arrived, punctual to the minute; he looked 
 like a man upon his guard, and spoke low and sparingly. 
 The Dictator, on the other hand, appeared to enjoy an 
 unusual flow of spirits; his laugh, which was youthful and 
 pleasant to hear, sounded frequently from the garden; 
 by the modulation and the changes of his voice it was 
 obvious that he told many droll stories and imitated the 
 accents of a variety of different nations; and before he 
 and the young clergyman had finished their vermouth all 
 feeling of distrust was at an end, and they were talking 
 together like a pair of school companions. 
 
 At length Miss Vandeleur made her appearance, carry- 
 ing the soup-tureen. Mr. Rolles ran to offer her assist- 
 ance, which she laughingly refused; and there was an 
 interchange of pleasantries among the trio which seemed 
 to have reference to this primitive manner of waiting by 
 one of the company. 
 
 "One is more at one's ease," Mr. Vandeleur was heard 
 to declare. 
 
 Next moment they were all three in their places, and 
 Francis could see as little as he could hear of what passed; 
 but the dinner seemed to go merrily; there was a perpetual 
 babble of voices and sound of knives and forks below the 
 chestnut; and Francis, who had no more than a roll to 
 
THE rajah's diamond 159 
 
 gnaw, was affected with envy by the comfort and delib- 
 eration of the meal. The party lingered over one dish 
 after another, and then over a delicate dessert, with a 
 bottle of old wine carefully uncorked by the hand of the 
 Dictator himself. As it began to grow dark a lamp was 
 set upon the table and a couple of candles on the side- 
 board; for the night was perfectly pure, starry, and wind- 
 less. Light overflowed besides from the door and window 
 in the veranda, so that the garden was fairly illuminated 
 and the leaves twinkled in the darkness. 
 
 For perhaps the tenth time Miss Vandeleur entered the 
 house; and on this occasion she returned with the coffee 
 tray, which she placed upon the sideboard. At the same 
 moment her father rose from his seat. 
 
 "The coffee is my province," Francis heard him say. 
 
 And next moment he saw his supposed father standing 
 by the sideboard in the light of the candles. 
 
 Talking over his shoulder all «the while, Mr. Vandeleur 
 poured out two cups of the brovsm stimulant, and then, by 
 a rapid act of prestidigitation, emptied the contents of a 
 tiny phial into the smaller one of the two. The thing 
 was so swiftly done that even Francis, who looked straight 
 into his face, had hardly time to perceive the movement 
 before it was completed. And next instant, and still 
 laughing, Mr. Vandeleur had turned again towards the 
 table with a cup in either hand. 
 
 "We have done with this," said he, "we may expect 
 our famous Hebrew." 
 
 It would be impossible to depict the confusion and dis- 
 tress of Francis Scrymgeour. He saw foul play going 
 forward before his eyes, and he felt bound to interfere, 
 but knew not how. It might be a mere pleasantry, and 
 then how should he look if he were to offer an unnecessary 
 warning? Or again, if it were serious, the criminal 
 
160 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 might be his own father, and then how should he not 
 lament if he were to bring ruin on the author of his days? 
 For the first time he became conscious of his own position 
 as a spy. To wait inactive at such a juncture and with 
 such a conflict of sentiments in his bosom was to suffer 
 the most acute torture; he clung to the bars of the shut- 
 ters, his heart beat fast and with irregularity, and he felt 
 a strong sweat break forth upon his body. 
 
 Several minutes passed. 
 
 He seemed to i)erceive the conversation die away and 
 grow less and less in vivacity and volume; but still no 
 sign of any alarming or even notable event. 
 
 Suddenly the ring of a glass breaking was followed by 
 a faint and dull sound, as of a person who should have 
 fallen forward with his head upon the table. At the same 
 moment a piercing scream rose from the garden. 
 
 "What have you done?" cried Miss Vandeleur. "He 
 is dead!" 
 
 The Dictator replied in a violent whisper, so strong and 
 sibilant that every word was audible to the watcher at 
 the window. 
 
 "Silence! " said Mr. Vandeleur; "the man is as well 
 as I am. Take him by the heels whilst I carry him by 
 the shoulders." 
 
 Francis heard Miss Vandeleur break forth into a passion 
 of tears. 
 
 "Do you hear what I say?" resumed the Dictator, in 
 the same tones. "Or do you wish to quarrel with me? 
 I give you your choice. Miss Vandeleur." 
 
 There was another pause, and the Dictator spoke 
 again. 
 
 "Take that man by the heels," he said. "I must have 
 him brought into the house. If I were a little younger, I 
 could help myself against the world. But now that yearc 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 161 
 
 and dangers are upon me and my hands are weakened, I 
 must turn to you for aid." 
 
 "It is a crime," replied the girl. 
 
 "I am your father," said Mr. Vandeleur, 
 
 This appeal seemed to produce its effect. A scuffling 
 noise followed upon the gravel, a chair was overset, and 
 then Francis saw the father and daughter stagger across 
 the walk and disappear under the veranda, bearing the 
 inanimate body of Mr. Rolles embraced about the knees 
 and shoulders. The young clergyman was limp and pallid, 
 and his head rolled upon his shoulders at every step. 
 
 Was he alive or dead? Francis, in spite of the Dictator's 
 declaration, inclined to the latter view. A great crime 
 had been committed; a great calamity had fallen upon the 
 inhabitants of the house with the green blinds. To his 
 surprise, Francis found all horror for the deed swallowed 
 up in sorrow for a girl and an old man whom he judged 
 to be in the height of peril. A tide of generous feeling 
 swept into his heart; he, too, would help his father against 
 man and mankind, against fate and justice; and casting 
 open the shutters he closed his eyes and threw himself 
 with outstretched arms into the foliage of the chestnut. 
 
 Branch after branch slipped from his grasp or broke 
 under his weight; then he caught a stalwart bough under 
 his armpit, and hung suspended for a second; and then he 
 let himself drop and fell heavily against the table. A cry 
 of alarm from the house warned him that his entrance 
 had not been effected unobserved. He recovered himself 
 with a stagger, and in three bounds crossed the interven- 
 ing space and stood before the door in the veranda. 
 
 In a small apartment, carpeted with matting and sur- 
 rounded by glazed cabinets full of rare and costly curios, 
 Mr. Vandeleur was stooping over the body of Mr. Rolles. 
 He raised himself as Francis entered, and there was an 
 
162 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 instantaneous passage of hands. It was the business of a 
 second; as fast as an eye can wink the thing was done; 
 the young man had not the time to be sure, but it seemed 
 to him as if the Dictator had taken something from the 
 curate's breast, looked at it for the least fraction of time 
 as it lay in his hand, and then suddenly and swiftly passed 
 it to his daughter. 
 
 All this was over while Francis had still one foot upon 
 the threshold, and the other raised in air. The next 
 instant he was on his knees to Mr. Vandeleur. 
 
 ' 'Father ! " he cried. "Let me, too, help you. I will do 
 what you wish and ask no questions; I will obey you with 
 my life; treat me as a son, and you will find I have a son's 
 devotion." 
 
 A deplorable explosion of oaths was the Dictator's first 
 reply. 
 
 "Son and Father?" he cried. "Father and son? What 
 d — d unnatural comedy is all this? How do you come 
 in my garden? What do you want? And who, in God's 
 name, are you?" 
 
 Francis, with a stunned and shamefaced aspect, got 
 upon his feet again, and stood in silence. 
 
 Then a light seemed to break upon Mr. Vandeleur, and 
 he laughed aloud. 
 
 ' 'I see, ' ' cried he. ' 'It is the Scrymgeour. Very well, 
 Mr. Scrymgeour. Let me tell you in a few words how 
 you stand. You have entered my private residence by 
 force, or perhaps by fraud, but certainly with no encour- 
 agement from me; and you come at a moment of some 
 annoyance, a guest having fainted at my table, to besiege 
 me with your protestations. You are no son of mine. 
 You are my brother's bastard by a fishwife, if you want 
 to know. I regard you with an indifference closely bor- 
 dering on aversion; and from what I now see of your 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 163 
 
 conduct, I judge your mind to be exactly suitable to your 
 exterior. I recommend you these mortifying reflections 
 for your leisure; and, in the meantime, let me beseech 
 you to rid us of your presence. If I were not occupied," 
 added the Dictator, with a terrifying oath, "I should give 
 you the unholiest drubbing ere you went!" 
 
 Francis listened in profound humiliation. He would 
 have fled had it been possible; but as he had no means of 
 leaving the residence into which he had so unfortunately 
 penetrated, he could do no more than stand foolishly 
 where he was. 
 
 It was Miss Vandeleur who broke the silence. 
 
 "Father," she said, "you speak in anger. Mr. Scrym- 
 geour may have been mistaken, but he meant well and 
 kindly." 
 
 "Thank you for speaking," returned the Dictator. 
 "You remind me of some other observations which I hold 
 it a point of honor to make to Mr. Scrymgeour. My 
 brother," he continued, addressing the young man, "has 
 been foolish enough to give you an allowance; he was 
 foolish enough and presumptuous enough to propose a 
 match between you and this young lady. You were ex- 
 hibited to her two nights ago; and I rejoice to tell you 
 that she rejected the idea with disgust. Let me add that 
 I have considerable influence with your father; and it 
 shall not be my fault if you are not beggared of your 
 allo^Arance and sent back to your scrivening ere the week 
 be out." 
 
 The tones of the old man's voice were, if possible, more 
 wounding than his language; Francis felt himself ex- 
 posed to the most cruel, blighting, and unbearable con- 
 tempt; his head turned, and he covered his face with his 
 hands, uttering at the same time a tearless sob of agony. 
 But Miss Vandeleur once again interfered in his behalf. 
 
164 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Mr. Scrymgeour, " she said, speaking in clear and 
 even tones, "you must not be concerned at my father's 
 harsh expressions. I felt no disgust for you; on the 
 contrary, I asked an opportunity to make your better 
 acquaintance. As for what has passed to-night, be- 
 lieve me it has filled my mind with both pity and es- 
 teem." 
 
 Just then Mr. Rolles made a convulsive movement 
 with his arm, which convinced Francis that he was only 
 drugged, and was beginning to throw off the influence of 
 the opiate. Mr. Vandeleur stooped over him and exam- 
 ined his face for an instant. 
 
 "Come, come!" cried he, raising his head. "Let there 
 be an end of this. And since you are so pleased with his 
 conduct. Miss Vandeleur, take a candle and show the 
 bastard out." 
 
 The young lady hastened to obey. 
 
 "Thank you," said Francis, as soon as he was alone 
 with her in the garden. "I thank you from my soul. 
 This has been the bitterest evening of my life, but it will 
 have always one pleasant recollection." 
 
 "I spoke as I felt," she replied, "and in justice to you. 
 It made my heart sorry that you should be so unkindly 
 used." 
 
 By this time they had reached the garden gate; and 
 Miss Vandeleur, having set the candle on the ground, was 
 already unfastening the bolts. 
 
 "One word more," said Francis. "This is not for the 
 last time — I shall see you again, shall I not?" 
 
 "Alas!" she answered. "You have heard my father. 
 What can I do but obey?" 
 
 "Tell me at least that it is not with your consent," 
 returned Francis; "tell me that you have no wish to see 
 the last of me." 
 
THE rajah's DUMOND 165 
 
 "Indeed," replied she, "I have none. You seem to me 
 both brave and honest. ' ' 
 
 "Then," said Francis, "give me a keepsake." 
 
 She paused for a moment, with her hand upon the key; 
 for the various bars and bolts were all undone, and there 
 was nothing left but to open the lock. 
 
 "If I agree," she said, "will you promise to do as I tell 
 you from point to point?" 
 
 "Can you ask?" replied Francis. "I would do so will- 
 ingly on your bare word." 
 
 She turned the key and threw open the door. 
 
 "Be it so," said she. "You do not know what you 
 ask, but be it so. Whatever you hear," she continued, 
 "whatever happens, do not return to this house; hurry 
 fast until you reach the lighted and populous quarters of 
 the city; even there be upon your guard. You are in a 
 greater danger than you fancy. Promise me you will not 
 so much as look at any keepsake until you are in a place 
 of safety." 
 
 "I promise," replied Francis. 
 
 She put something loosely wrapped in a handkerchief 
 into the young man's hand; and at the same time, with 
 more strength than he could have anticipated, she pushed 
 him into the street. 
 
 "Now, run!" she cried. 
 
 He heard the door close behind him, and the noise of 
 the bolts being replaced. 
 
 "My faith," said he, "since I have promised!" 
 
 And he took to his heels down the lane that leads into 
 the Rue Ravignan. 
 
 He was not fifty paceis from the house with the green 
 blinds when the most diabolical outcry suddenly arose out 
 of the stillness of the night. Mechanically he stood still ; 
 another passenger followed his example; in the neigh- 
 
166 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 boring floors he saw people crowding to the windows; a 
 conflagration could not have produced more disturbance 
 in this empty quarter. And yet it seemed to be all the 
 work of a single man, roaring between grief and rage, 
 like a lioness robbed of her whelps; and Francis was sur- 
 prised and alarmed to hear his own name shouted with 
 English imprecafons to the wind. 
 
 His first movenent was to return to the house; his 
 second, as he remembered Miss Vandeleur's advice, to 
 continue his flight with greater expedition than before; 
 and he was in the act of turning to put his thought in 
 action, when the Dictator, bareheaded, bawling aloud, 
 his white hair blowing about his head, shot past him like 
 a ball out of the cannon's mouth, and went careering 
 down the street. 
 
 "That was a close shave," thought Francis to himself. 
 "What he wants with me, and why he should be so 
 disturbed, I cannot think; but he is plainly not good 
 company for the moment, and I cannot do better than 
 follow Miss Vandeleur's advice. ' ' 
 
 So saying, he turned to retrace his steps, thinking to 
 double and descend by the Rue Lepic itself while his 
 pursuer should continue to follow after him on the other 
 line of street. The plan was ill-advised: as a matter of 
 fact, he should have taken his seat in the nearest cafe, 
 and waited there until the first heat of the pursuit was 
 over. But besides that Francis had no experience and 
 little natural aptitude for the small war of private life, 
 he was so unconscious of any evil on his part, that he saw 
 nothing to fear beyond a disagreeable interview. And to 
 disagreeable interviews he felt he had already served his 
 apprenticeship that evening; nor could he suppose that 
 Miss Vandeleur had left anji;hing unsaid. Indeed, the 
 young man was sore both in body and mind — the one was 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 167 
 
 all bruised, the other was full of smarting arrows; and he 
 owned to himself that Mr. Vandeleur was master of a 
 very deadly tongue. 
 
 The thought of his bruises reminded him that he had 
 not only come without a hat, but that his clothes had 
 considerably suffered in his descent through the chestnut. 
 At the first magazine he purchased a cheap wide-awake, 
 and had the disorder of his toilet summarily repaired. 
 The keepsake, still rolled in the handkerchief, he thrust 
 in the meanwhile into his trousers pocket. 
 
 Not many steps beyond the shop he was conscious of a 
 sudden shock, a hand upon his throat, an infuriated face 
 close to his own, and an open mouth bawling curses in 
 ' his ear. The Dictator, having found no trace of his 
 quarry, was returning by the other way. Francis was 
 a stalwart young fellow; but he was no match for his 
 adversary whether in strength or skill; and after a few 
 ineffectual struggles he resigned himself entirely to his 
 captor. 
 
 "What do you want with me?" 
 
 "We will talk of that at home," returned the Dictator, 
 grimly. 
 
 And he continued to march the young man up hill in 
 the direction of the house with the green blinds. 
 
 But Francis, although he no longer struggled, was only 
 waiting an opportunity to make a bold push for freedom. 
 With a sudden jerk he left the collar of his coat in the' 
 hands of Mjr. Vandeleur, and once more made off at his 
 best speed in the direction of the Boulevards. 
 
 The tables were now turned. If the Dictator was the 
 stronger, Francis, in the top of his youth, was the more 
 fleet of foot, and he had soon effected his escape among 
 the crowds. Relieved for a moment, but with a growing 
 sentiment of alarm and wonder in his mind, he walked 
 
168 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 briskly until he debouched upon the Place de I'Opera, lit 
 up like day with electric lamps. 
 
 "This, at least," thought he, "should satisfy Miss 
 Vandeleur." 
 
 And turning to his right along the Boulevards, he 
 entered the Cafe Americain and ordered some beer. It 
 was both late and early for the majority of the frequent- 
 ers of the establishment. Only two or three persons, all 
 men, were dotted here and there at separate tables in the 
 hall; and Francis was too much occupied by his own 
 thoughts to observe their presence. 
 
 He drew the handkerchief from his pocket. The object 
 wrapped in it proved to be a morocco case, clasped and 
 ornamented in. gilt, which opened by means of a spring, 
 and disclosed to the horrified young man a diamond of 
 monstrous bigness and extraordinary brilliancy. The 
 circumstance was so inexplicable, the value of the stone 
 was plainly so enormous, that Francis sat staring into the 
 open casket without movement, Without conscious thought, 
 like a man stricken suddenly with idiocy. 
 
 A hand was laid upon his shoulder, lightly but firmly, 
 and a quiet voice, which yet had in it the ring of com- 
 mand, uttered these words in his ear: 
 
 "Close the casket, and compose your face." 
 
 Looking up, he beheld a man, still young, of an urbane 
 and tranquil presence, and dressed with rich simplicity. 
 This personage had risen from a neighboring table, and 
 bringing his glass with him, had taken a seat beside 
 Francis. 
 
 "Close the casket," replied the stranger, "and put it 
 quietly back into your pocket, where I feel persuaded it 
 should never have been. Try, if you please, to throw off 
 your bewildered air, and act as though I were one of your 
 acquaintances whom you had met by chance. So! Touch 
 
THE rajah's diamond 169 
 
 glasses with me. That is better. I fear, sir, you must 
 be an amateur." 
 
 And the stranger pronounced these last words with a 
 smile of peculiar meaning, leaned back in his seat and 
 enjoyed a deep inhalation of tobacco. 
 
 "For God's sake," said Francis, "tell me who you are 
 and what this means? Why I should obey your most 
 unusual suggestions I am sure I know not; but the truth 
 is, I have fallen this evening into so many perplexing ad- 
 ventures, and all I meet conduct themselves so strangely, 
 that I think I must either have gone mad or wandered 
 into another planet. Your face inspires me with confi- 
 dence; you seem wise, good, and experienced; tell me, for 
 heaven's sake, why you accost me in so odd a fashion?" 
 
 "All in due time," replied the stranger. "But I have 
 the first hand, and you must begin by telling me how 
 the Rajah's Diamond is in your possession. ' ' 
 
 "The Rajah's Diamond!" 
 
 "I would not speak so loud, if I were you," returned 
 the other, "But most certainly you have the Rajah's 
 Diamond in your pocket. I have seen and handled it a 
 score of times in Sir Thomas Vandeleur's collection." 
 
 "Sir Thomas Vandeleur! The General! My father!" 
 
 "Your father?" repeated the stranger. "I was not 
 aware the General had any family." 
 
 "I am illegitimate, sir," replied Francis with a flush. 
 
 The other bowed with gravity. It was a respectful 
 bow, as of a man silently apologizing to his equal; and 
 Francis felt relieved and comforted, he scarce knew why. 
 The society of this person did him good; he seemed to 
 touch firm ground; a strong feeling of respect grew up in 
 his bosom, and mechanically he removed his wide-awake 
 as though in the presence of a superior. 
 
 "I perceive," said the stranger, "that your adventures 
 
170 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 have not all been peaceful. Your collar is torn, your face 
 is scratched, you have a cut' upon your temple; you will, 
 perhaps, pardon my curiosity when I ask you to explain 
 how you came by these injuries, and how you happen 
 to have stolen property to an enormous value in your 
 pocket. ' ' 
 
 "I must differ from you!" returned Francis, hotly. "I 
 possess no stolen property. And if you refer to the 
 diamond, it was given to me not an hour ago by Miss 
 Vandeleur in the Rue Lepic." 
 
 "By Miss Vandeleur of the Rue Lepic!" repeated the 
 other. ' 'You interest me more than you suppose. Pray 
 continue. ' ' 
 
 "Heavens!" cried Francis. 
 
 His memory had made a sudden bound. He had seen 
 Mr. Vandeleur take an article from the breast of his 
 drugged visitor, and that article, he was now persuaded, 
 was a morocco case. 
 
 "You have a light?" inquired the stranger. 
 
 "Listen," said Francis. "I know not who you are, but 
 I believe you to be worthy of confidence and helpful; I 
 find myself in strange waters; I must have counsel and 
 support, and since you invite me I shall tell you all." 
 
 And he briefly recounted his experiences since the day 
 when he was summoned from the bank by his lawyer. 
 
 "Yours is indeed a remarkable history," said the 
 stranger, after the young man had made an end of his 
 narrative; "and your position is full of difficulty and 
 peril. Many would counsel you to seek out your father, 
 and give the diamond to him; but I have other views. 
 Waiter!" he cried. 
 
 The waiter drew near. 
 
 "Will you ask the manager to speak with me a mo- 
 ment?" said he; and Francis observed once more, both 
 
THE rajah's diamond 171 
 
 in his tone and manner, the evidence of a habit of com- 
 mand. 
 
 The waiter withdrew, and returned in a moment with 
 the manager, who bowed with obsequious respect. 
 
 "What," said he, "can I do to serve you?" 
 
 "Have the goodness," replied the stranger, indicating 
 Francis, "to tell this gentleman my name." 
 
 "You have the honor, sir," said the functionary, ad- 
 dressing young Scrymgeour, "to occupy the same table 
 with His Highness Prince Florizel of Bohemia." 
 
 Francis rose with precipitation, and made a grate- 
 ful reverence to the Prince, who bade him resume his 
 seat. 
 
 "I thank you," said Florizel, once more addressing the 
 functionary; "I am sorry to have deranged you for so 
 small a matter." 
 
 And he dismissed him with a movement of his hand. 
 
 "And now," added the Prince, turning to Francis, 
 "give me the diamond." 
 
 Without a word the casket was handed over. 
 
 "You have done right," said Florizel; "your sentiments 
 have properly inspired you, and you will live to be grate- 
 ful for the misfortunes of to-night. A man, Mr. Scrym- 
 geour, may fall into a thousand perplexities, but if his 
 heart be upright and his intelligence unclouded, he will 
 issue from them all without dishonor. Let your mind be 
 at rest; your affairs are in my hands; and with the aid of 
 heaven I am strong enough to bring them to a good end. 
 Follow me, if you please, to my carriage." 
 
 So saying the Prince arose and, having left a piece of 
 gold for the waiter, conducted the young man from the 
 cafe and along the Boulevard to where an unpretentious 
 brougham and a couple of servants out of livery awaited 
 his arrival. 
 
172 NEW AEABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "This carriage," said he, "is at your disposal; collect 
 your baggage as rapidly as you can make it convenient, 
 and my servants will conduct you to a villa in the neigh- 
 borhood of Paris where you can wait in some degree of 
 comfort until I have had time to arrange your situation. 
 You will find there a pleasant garden, a library of good 
 authors, a cook, a cellar, and some good cigars, which I 
 recommend to your attention. Jerome, ' ' he added, turn- 
 ing to one of the servants, "you have heard what I say; I 
 leave Mr. Scrymgeour in your charge; you will, I know, 
 be careful of my friend." 
 
 Francis uttered some broken phrases of gratitude. 
 
 "It will be time enough to thank me," said the Prince, 
 "when you are acknowledged by your father and married 
 to Miss Vandeleur." , 
 
 And with that the Prince turned away and strolled 
 leisurely in the direction of Montmartre. He hailed the 
 first passing cab, gave an address, and a quarter of an 
 hour afterwards, having discharged the driver some dis- 
 tance lower, he was knocking at Mr. Vandeleur's garden 
 gate. 
 
 It was opened with singular precautions by the Dictator 
 in person. 
 
 "Who are you?" he demanded. 
 
 "You must pardon me this late visit, Mr. Vandeleur," 
 replied the Prince. 
 
 "Your Highness is always welcome," returned Mr. 
 Vandeleur, stepping back. 
 
 The Prince profited by the open space, and without 
 waiting for his host walked right into the house and 
 opened the door of the salon. Two people were seated 
 there; one was Miss Vandeleur, who bore the marks of 
 weeping about her eyes, and was still shaken from time 
 to timd^by a sob; in the other the Prince recognized the 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 173 
 
 young man who had consulted him on literary matters 
 about a month before, in a club smoking-room. 
 
 "Good evening. Miss Vandeleur," said Florizel; "you 
 look fatigued. Mr. Rolles, I believe? I hope you have 
 profited by the study of Gaboriau, Mr. Rolles." 
 
 But the young clergyman's temper was too much 
 embittered for speech; and he contented himself with 
 bowing stiffly, and continued to gnaw his lip. 
 
 ' 'To what good wind, ' ' said Mr. Vandeleur, following 
 his guest, ' 'am I to attribute the honor of your Highness's 
 presence?" 
 
 "I am come on business," returned the Prince; "on 
 business with you; as soon as that is settled I shall request 
 Mr. Rolles to accompany me for a walk. Mr. Rolles, ' ' 
 he added, with severity, "let me remind you that I have 
 not yet sat down. ' ' 
 
 The clergyman sprang to his feet with an apology; 
 whereupon the Prince took an armchair beside the table, 
 handed his hat to Mr. Vandeleur, his cane to Mr. Rolles, 
 and, leaving them standing and thus menially employed 
 upon his service, spoke as follows: 
 
 "I have come here, as I said, upon business; but, had I 
 come looking for pleasure, I could not have been more 
 displeased with my reception nor more dissatisfied with 
 my company. You, sir," addressing Mr. Rolles, "you 
 have treated your superior in station with discourtesy; 
 you, Vandeleur, receive me with a smile, but you know 
 right well that your hands are not yet cleansed from 
 misconduct. I do not desire to be interrupted, sir, ' ' he 
 added, imperiously; "I am here to speak, and not to listen; 
 and I have to ask you to hear roe with respect, and to 
 obey punctiliously. At the earliest possible date your 
 daughter shall be married at the Embassy to my friend, 
 Francis Scrymgeour, your brother's acknowledged son. 
 
174 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 You will oblige me by offering not less than ten thousand 
 pounds dowry. For yourself, I will indicate to you in 
 writing a mission of some importance in Siam which I 
 destine to your care. And now, sir, you will answer me 
 in two words whether or not you agree to these condi- 
 tions." 
 
 "Your Highness will pardon me," said Mr. Vandeleur, 
 "and permit me, with all respect, to submit to him two 
 queries?" 
 
 "The permission is granted," replied the Prince. 
 
 "Your Highness," resumed the Dictator, "has called 
 Mr. Scrsmigeour his friend. Believe me, had I known 
 that he was thus honored, I should have treated him with 
 proportional respect." 
 
 "You interrogate adroitly," said the Prince; "but it 
 will not serve your turn. You have my commands; if I 
 had never seen that gentleman before to-night, it would 
 not render them less absolute." 
 
 "Your Highness interprets my meaning with his usual 
 subtlety," returned Vandeleur. "Once more: I have, 
 unfortunately, put the police upon the track of Mr. 
 Scrymgeour on a charge of theft; am I to withdraw or to 
 uphold the accusation?" 
 
 "You will please yourself," replied Florizel. "The 
 question is one between your conscience and the laws of 
 this land. Give me my hat; and you, Mr. Rolles, give 
 me my cane and follow me. Miss Vandeleur, I wish you 
 good evening. I judge," he added to Vandeleur, "that 
 your silence means unqualified assent. ' ' 
 
 "If I can do no better," replied the old man, "I shall 
 submit; but I warn you openly it shall not be without a 
 struggle." 
 
 "You are old," said the Prince; "but years are dis- 
 graceful to the wicked. Your age is more unwise than 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 175 
 
 the youth of others. Do not provoke me, or you may find 
 me harder than you dream. This is the first time that I 
 have fallen across your path in anger; take care that it 
 be the last." 
 
 With these words, motioning the clergyman to follow, 
 Florizel left the apartment and directed his steps towards 
 the garden-gate; and the Dictator, following with a 
 candle, gave them light, and once more undid the elabo- 
 rate fastenings with which he sought to protect himself 
 from intrusion. 
 
 ' 'Your daughter is no longer present, ' ' said the Prince, 
 turning on the threshold. "Let me tell you that I under- 
 stand your threats; and you have only to lift your hand to 
 bring upon yourself sudden and irremediable ruin." 
 
 The Dictator made no reply; but as the Prince turned 
 his back upon him in the lamplight he made a gesture 
 full of menace and insane fury; and the next moment, 
 slipping round a corner, he was running at full speed for 
 the nearest cab-stand. 
 
 {Here, says my Arabian, the thread of events is filially 
 diverted from The House with the Green Blinds. 
 One more adventure, he adds, and we have done with 
 The Rajah's Diamond. That last link in the chain is 
 kncnvn among the inhabitants of Bagdad by the name of 
 The Adventure op Prince Florizel and a Detec- 
 tive.) 
 
176 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 ADVENTURE OF PRINCE FLORIZEL AND 
 THE DETECTIVE 
 
 Prince Florizel walked with Mr. Rolles to the door of 
 a small hotel where the latter resided. They spoke much 
 together, and the clergyman was more than once affected 
 to tears by the mingled severity and tenderness of Flor- 
 izel's reproaches. 
 
 "I have made ruin of my life," he said at last. "Help 
 me; tell me what I am to do; I have, alas! neither the 
 virtues of a priest nor the dexterity of a rogue." 
 
 "Now that you are humbled," said the Prince, "I 
 command no longer; the repentant have to do with God 
 and not with princes. But if you will let me advise you, 
 go to Australia as a colonist, seek menial labor in the 
 open air, and try to forget that you have ever been a 
 clergyman, or that you ever set eyes on that accursed 
 stone." 
 
 "Accurst indeed!" replied Mr. Rolles. "Where is it 
 now? What further hurt is it not working for mankind?" 
 
 "It will do no more evil," returned the Prince. "It 
 is here in my pocket. And this," he added, kindly, ''will 
 show that I place some faith in your penitence, young as 
 it is." 
 
 "Suffer me to touch your hand," pleaded Mr. Rolles. 
 
 "No," replied Prince Florizel, "not yet." 
 
 The tone in which he uttered these last words was elo- 
 quent in the ears of the young clergyman; and for some 
 minutes after the Prince had turned away he stood on the 
 threshold following with his eyes the retreating figure 
 and invoking the blessing of heaven upon a man so excel- 
 lent in counsel. 
 
 For several hours the Prince walked alone in unfre- 
 
THE RAJAH'S DIAMOND 177 
 
 quented streets. His mind was full of concern; what to 
 do with the diamond, whether to return it to its owner, 
 whom he judged unworthy of this rare possession, or to 
 take some sweeping and courageous measure and put it 
 out of the reach of all mankind at once and for ever was 
 a problem too grave to be decided in a moment. The 
 manner in which it had come into his hands appeared 
 manifestly providential; and as he took out the jewel and 
 looked at it under the street lamps, its size and sur- 
 prising brilliancy inclined him more and more to think 
 of it as an unmixed and dangerous evil for the world. 
 
 "God help me!" he thought; "if I look at it much 
 oftener I shall begin to grow covetous myself." 
 
 At last, though still uncertain in his mind, he turned 
 his steps towards the small but elegant. mansion on the 
 riverside, which had belonged for centuries to his royal 
 family. The arms of Bohemia are deeply graved over the 
 door and upon the tall chimneys; passengers have a look 
 into a green court set with the most costly flowers, and a 
 stork, the only one in Paris, perches on the gable all day 
 long and keeps a crowd before the house. Grave servants 
 are seen passing to and fro within; and from time to 
 time the great gate is thrown open and a carriage rolls 
 below the arch. For many reasons this residence was 
 especially dear to the heart of Prince Florizel ; he never 
 drew near to it without enjoying that sentiment of home- 
 coming so rare in the lives of the great; and on the 
 present evening he beheld its tall roof and mildly il- 
 luminated windows with unfeigned relief and satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 As he was approaching the postern door by which he 
 always entered when alone, a man stepped forth from the 
 shadow and presented himself with an obeisance in the 
 Prince's path. 
 
178 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "I have the honor of addressing Prince Florizel of 
 Bohemia?" said he. 
 
 "Such is my title," replied the Prince. "What do you 
 want with me?" 
 
 "I am," said the man, "a detective, and I have to 
 present your Highness with this billet from the Prefect 
 of Police." 
 
 The Prince took the letter and glanced it through by 
 the light of the street lamp. It was highly apologetic, 
 but requested him to follow the bearer to the Prefecture 
 without delay. 
 
 "In short," said Florizel, "I am arrested." 
 
 "Your Highness," replied the officer, "nothing, I am 
 certain, could be further from the intention of the 
 Prefect. You will observe that he has not granted a 
 warrant. It is mere formality, or call it if you pre- 
 fer, an obligation that your Highness lays on the au- 
 thorities." 
 
 "At the same time," asked the Prince, "if I were to 
 refuse to follow you?" 
 
 "I will not conceal from your Highness that a con- 
 siderable discretion has been granted me," replied the 
 detective with a bow. 
 
 "Upon my word," cried Florizel, "your effrontery 
 confounds me! Yourself, as an agent, I must pardon; 
 but your superiors shall dearly smart for their miscon- 
 duct. What, have you any idea, is the cause of this 
 impolitic and unconstitutional act? You will observe 
 that I have as yet neither refused nor consented and 
 much may depend on your prompt and ingenuous answer. 
 Let me remind you, officer, that this is an affair of some 
 gravity." 
 
 "Your Highness, " said the detective humbly, "General 
 Vandeleur and his brother have had the incredible pre- 
 
THE rajah's diamond 179 
 
 sumption to accuse you of theft. The famous diamond, 
 they declare, is in your hands. A word from you in 
 denial will most amply satisfy the Prefect; nay, I go 
 farther : if your Highness would so far honor a subaltern 
 as to declare his ignorance of the matter even to myself, 
 I should ask permission to retire upon the spot. ' ' 
 
 Florizel, up to the last moment, had regarded his 
 adventure in the light of a trifle, only serious upon in- 
 ternational considerations. At the name of Vandeleur 
 the horrible truth broke upon him in a moment; he was 
 not only arrested, but he was guilty. This was not only 
 an annoying incident — it was a peril to his honor. What 
 was he to say? What was he to do? The Rajah's Dia- 
 mond was indeed an accursed stone; and it seemed as if 
 he were to be the last victim to its influence. 
 
 One thing was certain. He could not give the required 
 assurance to the detective. He must gain time. 
 
 His hesitation had not lasted a second. 
 
 "Be it so," said he, "let us walk together to the Pre- 
 fecture." 
 
 The man once more bowed, and proceeded to follow 
 Florizel at a respectful distance in the rear. 
 
 "Approach," said the Prince. "I am in a humor to 
 talk, and, if I mistake not, now I look at you again, this 
 is not the first time that we have met." 
 
 "I count it an honor," replied the officer, "that your 
 Highness should recollect my face. It is eight years since 
 I had the pleasure of an interview." 
 
 "To remember faces," returned Florizel, "is as much 
 a part of my profession as it is of yours. Indeed, rightly 
 looked upon, a Prince and a detective serve in the same 
 corps. We are both combatants against crime; only mine 
 is the more lucrative and yours the more dangerous rank, 
 and there is a sense in which both may be made equally 
 
180 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 honorable to a good man. I had rather, strange as you 
 may think it, be a detective of character and parts than a 
 weak and ignoble sovereign." 
 
 The officer was overwhelmed. 
 
 "Your Highness returns good for evil," said he. "To 
 an act of presumption he replies by the most amiable 
 condescension. ' ' 
 
 "How do you know," replied Florizel, "that I am not 
 seeking to corrupt you?" 
 
 "Heaven preserve me from the temptation!" cried the 
 detective. 
 
 "I applaud your answer," returned the Prince. "It is 
 that of a wise and honest man. The world is a great 
 place, and stocked with wealth and beauty, and there is 
 no limit to the rewards that may be offered. Such an 
 one who would refuse a million of money may sell his 
 honor for an empire or the love of a woman; and I myself, 
 who speak to you, have seen occasions so tempting, provo- 
 cations so irresistible to the strength of human virtue, 
 that I have been glad to tread in your steps and recom- 
 mend myself to the grace of God. It is thus, thanks to 
 that modest and becoming habit alone," he added, "that 
 you and I can walk this town together with untarnished 
 hearts." 
 
 "I had always heard that you were brave," replied the 
 officer, "but I was not aware that you were wise and 
 pious. You speak the truth, and you speak it with an 
 accent that moves me to the heart. This world is indeed 
 a place of trial." 
 
 "We are now," said Florizel, "in the middle of the 
 bridge. Lean your elbows on the parapet and look over. 
 As the water rushing below, so the passions and compli- 
 cations of life carry away the honesty of weak men. Let 
 me tell you a story." 
 
THE RAJAH'S DUMOND 181 
 
 "I receive your Highness's commands," replied the 
 man. 
 
 And, imitating the Prince, he leaned against the para- 
 pet, and disposed himself to listen. The city was already 
 sunk in slumber; had it not been for the infinity of lights 
 and the outline of buildings on the starry sky, they might 
 have been alone beside some country river. 
 
 "An officer, " began Prince Florizel, "a man of courage 
 and conduct, who had already risen by merit to an emi- 
 nent rank, and won not only admiration but respect, 
 visited, in an unfortunate hour for his peace of mind, the 
 collections of an Indian Prince. Here he beheld a diamond 
 so extraordinary for size and beauty that from that in- 
 stant he had only one desire in life: honor, reputation, 
 friendship, the love of country, he was ready to sacrifice 
 all for this lump of sparkling crystal. For three years 
 he served this semi-barbarian potentate as Jacob served 
 Laban; he falsified frontiers, he connived at murders, he 
 unjustly condemned and executed a brother officer who 
 had the misfortune to displease the Rajah by some honest 
 freedoms; lastly, at a time of great danger to his native 
 land, he betrayed a body of his fellow-soldiers and suffered 
 them to be defeated and massacred by thousands. In the 
 end, he had amassed a magnificent fortune, and brought 
 home with him the coveted diamond. 
 
 "Years passed," continued the Prince, "and at length 
 the diamond is accidentally lost. It falls into the hands 
 of a simple and laborious youth, a student, a minister of 
 God, just entering on a career of usefulness and even dis- 
 tinction. Upon him also the spell is cast; he deserts 
 evers^thing, his holy calling, his studies, and flees with 
 the gem into a foreign country. The officer has a brother, 
 an astute, daring, unscrupulous man, who learns the 
 clergyman's secret. What does he do? Tell his brother. 
 
182 NEW AEABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 inform the police? No; upon this man also the Satanic 
 charm has fallen; he must have the stone for himself. At 
 the risk of murder, he drugs the young priest and seizes 
 the prey. And now, by an accident which is not impor- 
 tant to my moral, the jewel passes out of his custody into 
 that of another, who, terrified at what he sees, gives it 
 into the keeping of a man in high station and above 
 reproach. 
 
 "The officer's name is Thomas Vandeleur, " continued 
 Florizel. "The stone is called the Rajah's Diamond. 
 And" — suddenly opening his hand — "you behold it here 
 before your eyes." 
 
 The officer started back with a cry. 
 
 ' 'We have spoken of corruption, ' ' said the Prince. "To 
 me this nugget of bright crystal is as loathsome as though 
 it were crawling with the worms of death; it is as shock- 
 ing as though it were compacted out of innocent blood. 
 I see it here in my hand, and I know it is shining with 
 hell-fire. I have told you but a hundredth part of its 
 story; what passed in former ages, to what crimes and 
 treacheries it incited men of yore, the imagination trem- 
 bles to conceive; for years and years it has faithfully 
 served the powers of hell; enough, I say, of blood, enough 
 of disgrace, enough of broken lives and friendships; all 
 things come to an end, the evil like the good; pestilence 
 as well as beautiful music; and as for this diamond, God 
 forgive me if I do wrong, but its empire ends to-night." 
 
 The Prince made a sudden movement with his hand, 
 and the jewel, describing an arc of light, dived with a 
 splash into the flowing river. 
 
 "Amen," said Florizel, with gravity. "I have slain a 
 cockatrice!" 
 
 "God pardon me!" cried the detective. "What have 
 you done? I am a ruined man. " 
 
THE rajah's dumond 183 
 
 "I think," returned the Prince, with a smile, "that 
 many well-to-do people in this city might envy you your 
 ruin." 
 
 "Alas! your Highness!" said the officer, "and you 
 corrupt me after all?" 
 
 "It seems there was no help for it," replied Florizel. 
 "And now let us go forward to the Prefecture." 
 
 Not long after, the marriage of Francis Scrymgeour and 
 Miss Vandeleur was celebrated in great privacy; and the 
 Prince acted on that occasion as groom's man. The two 
 Vandeleurs surprised some rumor of what had happened 
 to the diamond; and their vast diving operations on the 
 River Seine are the wonder and amusement of the idle. 
 It is true that through some miscalculation they have 
 chosen the wrong branch of the river. As for the Prince, 
 that sublime person, having now served his turn, may go, 
 along with the Arabian Author, topsy-turvy into space. 
 But if the reader insists on more specific information, I 
 am happy to say that a recent revolution hurled him from 
 the throne of Bohemia, in consequence of his continued 
 absence and edifying neglect of public business; and that 
 his Highness now keeps a cigar store in Rupert Street, 
 much frequented by other foreign refugees. 
 
 I go there from time to time to smoke and have a chat, 
 and find him as great a creature as in the days of his 
 prosperity; he has an Olympian air behind the counter; 
 and although a sedentary life is beginning to tell upon his 
 waistcoat, he is probably, take him for all in all, the 
 handsomest tobacconist in London. 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 TEIXS HOW I CAMPED IN GBADEN SEA-WOOD, AND BEHELD 
 A LIGHT IN THE PAVILION 
 
 I WAS a great solitary when I was young. I made it 
 my pride to keep aloof and suffice for my own entertain- 
 ment; and I may say that I had neither friends nor 
 acquaintances until I met that friend who became my 
 wife and the mother of my children. With one man only 
 was I on private terms; this was R. Northmour, Esquire, 
 of Graden Easter, in Scotland. We had met at college; 
 and though there was not much liking between us, nor 
 even much intimacy, we were so nearly of a humor that 
 we could associate with ease to both. Misanthropes, we 
 believed ourselves to be; but I have thought since that we 
 were only sulky fellows. It was scarcely a companion- 
 ship, but a coexfetence in unsociability. Northmour's 
 exceptional violence of temper made it no easy affair for 
 him to keep the peace with anyone but me; and as he 
 respected my silent ways, and let me come and go as I 
 pleased, I could tolerate his presence without concern. 
 I think we called each other friends. 
 
 When Northmour took his degree and I decided to leave 
 the university without one, he invited me on a long visit 
 to Graden Easter; and it was thus that I first became 
 acquainted with the scene of my adventures. The mansion 
 house of Graden stood in a bleak stretch of country some 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 185 
 
 three miles from the shore of the German Ocean. It was 
 as large as a barrack; and as it had been built of a soft 
 stone, liable to consume in the eager air of the seaside, it 
 was damp and draughty within and half ruinous without. 
 It was impossible for two young men to lodge with com- 
 fort in such a dwelling. But there stood in the northern 
 part of the estate, in a wilderness of links and blowing 
 sand-hills, and between a plantation and the sea, a small 
 Pavilion or Belvedere, of modem design, which was 
 exactly suited to our wants; and in this hermitage, speak- 
 ing little, reading much, and rarely associating except at 
 meals, Northmour and I spent four tempestuous winter 
 months. I might have stayed longer; but one March 
 night there sprang up between us a dispute, which ren- 
 dered my departure necessary. Northmour spoke hotly, I 
 remember, and I suppose I must have made some tart 
 rejoinder. He leaped from his chair and grappled me; I 
 had to fight, without exaggeration, for my life; and it 
 was only with a great effort that I mastered him, for he 
 was near as strong in body as myself, and seemed filled 
 with the devil. The next morning, we met on our usual 
 terms; but I judged it more delicate to withdraw; nor 
 did he attempt to dissuade me. 
 
 It was nine years before I revisited the neighborhood. 
 I traveled at that time with a tilt cart, a tent, and a 
 cooking-stove, tramping all day beside the wagon, and at 
 night, whenever it was possible, gipsying in a cove of the 
 hills, or by. the side of a wood. I believe I visited in this 
 manner most of the wild and desolate regions both in 
 England and Scotland; and, as I had neither friends nor 
 relations, I was troubled with no correspondence, and had 
 nothing in the nature of headquarters, unless it was the 
 office of my solicitors, from whom I drew my income twice 
 a year. It was a life in which I delighted; and I fully 
 
186 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 thought to have grown old upon the march, and at last 
 died in a ditch. 
 
 It was my whole business to find desolate corners, where 
 I could camp without the fear of interruption; and hence 
 being in another part of the same shire, I bethought me 
 suddenly of the Pavilion on the Links. No thoroughfare 
 passed within three miles of it. The nearest town, and 
 that was but a fisher village, was at a distance of six or 
 seven. For ten miles of length, and from a depth vary- 
 ing from three miles to half a mile, this belt of barren 
 country lay along the sea. The beach, which was the 
 natural approach, was full of quicksands. Indeed I may 
 say there is hardly a better place of concealment in the 
 United Kingdom. I determined to pass a week in the 
 Sea- Wood of Graden Easter, and making a long stage, 
 reached it about sundown on a wild September day. 
 
 The country, I have said, was mixed sand-hill and links; 
 links being a Scottish name for sand which has ceased 
 drifting and become more or less solidly covered with 
 turf. The pavilion stood on an even space, a little be- 
 hind it, the wood began in a hedge of elders huddled 
 together by the wind; in front, a few tumbled sand-hills 
 stood between it and the sea. An outcropping of rock 
 had formed a bastion for the sand, so that there was here 
 a promontory in the coast-line between two shallow bays; 
 and just beyond the tides, the rock again cropped out and 
 formed an islet of small dimensions but strikingly de- 
 signed. The quicksands were of great extent at low 
 water, and had an infamous reputation in the country. 
 Close in shore, between the islet and the promontory, it 
 was said that they would swallow a man in four minutes 
 and a half; but there may have been little ground for this 
 precision. The district was alive with rabbits, and haunted 
 by gulls which made a continual piping about the pavilion. 
 
,.5N§D:'Saio|%^ 
 
 EDINBURGH HOME OF THE STEVENSON FAMILY, iSsj-iSS? 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 187 
 
 On summer days the outlook was bright and even glad' 
 some; but at sundown in September, with a high wind, 
 and a heavy surf rolling in close along the links, the place 
 told of nothing but dead mariners and sea disasters. A 
 ship beating to windward on the horizon, and a huge 
 truncheon of wreck half buried in the sands at my feet, 
 completed the innuendo of the scene. 
 
 The pavilion — it had been built by the last proprietor, 
 Northmour's uncle, a silly and prodigal virtuoso — ^pre- 
 sented little signs of age. It was two stories in height, 
 Italian in design, surrounded by a patch of garden in 
 which nothing had prospered but a few coarse flowers; 
 and looked, with its shuttered windows, not like a house 
 that had been deserted, but like one that had never been 
 tenanted by man. Northmour was plainly from home; 
 whether, as usual, sulking in the cabin of his yacht, or in 
 one of his fitful and extravagant appearances in the world 
 of society, I had, of course, no means of guessing. The 
 place had an air of solitude that daunted even a soli- 
 tary like myself; the wind cried in the chimneys with a 
 strange and wailing note; and it was with a sense of 
 escape, as if I were going indoors, that I turned away 
 and driving my cart before me entered the skirts of the 
 wood. 
 
 The Sea- Wood of Graden had been planted to shelter 
 the cultivated fields behind, and check the encroachments 
 of the blowing sand. As you advanced into it from coast- 
 ward, elders were succeeded by other hardy shrubs; but 
 the timber was all stunted and bushy; it led a life of 
 conflict; the trees were accustomed to swing there all 
 night long in fierce winter tempests; and even in early 
 spring, the leaves were already flying, and autumn was 
 beginning, in this exposed plantation. Inland the ground 
 rose into a little hill, which, along with the islet, served 
 
188 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 as a sailing mark for seamen. When the hill was open 
 of the islet to the north, vessels must bear well to the 
 , eastward to clear Graden Ness and the Graden Bullers. 
 In the lower ground, a streamlet ran among the trees, 
 and, being dammed with dead leaves and clay of its own 
 carrying, spread out every here and there, and lay in 
 stagnant pools. One or two ruined cottages were dotted 
 about the wood; and, according to Northmour, these were 
 ecclesiastical foundations, and in their time had sheltered 
 pious hermits. 
 
 I found a den, or small hollow, where there was a spring 
 of pure water; and there, clearing away the brambles, I 
 pitched the tent, and made a fire to cook my supper. My 
 horse I picketed farther in the wood where there was a 
 patch of sward. The banks of the den not only concealed 
 the light of my fire, but sheltered me from the wind, 
 which was cold as well as high. 
 
 The life I was leading made me both hardy and frugal. 
 I never drank but water, and rarely ate an5rthing more 
 costly than oatmeal; and I required so little sleep, that, 
 although I rose with the peep of day, I would often lie 
 long awake in the dark or starry watches of the night. 
 Thus in Graden Sea-Wood, although I fell thankfully 
 asleep by eight in the evening I was awake again before 
 eleven with a full possession of my faculties, and no sense 
 of drowsiness or fatigue. I rose and sat by. the fire, 
 watching the trees and clouds tumultuously tossing and 
 fleeing overhead, and barkening to the wind and rollers 
 along the shore; till at length, growing weary of inaction, 
 I quitted the den, and strolled towards the borders of the 
 wood. A young moon, buried in mist, gave a faint illu- 
 mination to my steps; and the light grew brighter as I 
 walked forth into the links. At the same moment, the 
 5?ind, smelling salt of the open ocean and carrying par- 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 189 
 
 tides of sand, struck me with its full force, so that I had 
 to bow my head. 
 
 When I raised it again to look about me, I was aware 
 of a light in the pavilion. It was not stationary; but 
 passed from one window to another, as though some one 
 were reviewing the different apartments with a lamp or 
 candle. I watched it for some seconds in great surprise. 
 When I had arrived in the afternoon the house had been 
 plainly deserted; now it was as plainly occupied. It was 
 my first idea that a gang of thieves might have broken in 
 and be now ransacking Northmour's cupboards, which 
 were many and not ill supplied. But what should bring 
 thieves to Graden Easter? And, again, all the shutters 
 had been thrown open, and it would have been more in 
 the character of such gentry to close them. I dismissed 
 the notion, and fell back upon another. Northmour him- 
 self must have arrived, and was now airing and inspecting 
 the pavilion. 
 
 I have said that there was no real affection between this 
 man and me; but, had I loved him like a brother, I was 
 then so much in love with solitude that I should none the 
 less have shunned his company. As it was, I turned and 
 ran for it; and it was with genuine satisfaction that I 
 found myself safely back beside the fire. I had escaped 
 an acquaintance; I should have one more night in com- 
 fort. In the morning, I might either slip away before 
 'Northmour was abroad, or pay him as short a visit as I 
 chose. 
 
 But when morning came, I thought the situation so 
 diverting that I forgot my shyness. Northmour was at 
 my mercy; I arranged a good practical jest, though I knew 
 well that my neighbor was not the man to jest with in 
 security; and, chuckling beforehand over its success, took 
 my place among the elders at the edge of the wood, whence 
 
190 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 I could command the door of the pavilion. The shutters 
 were all once more closed, which I remember thinking 
 odd; and the house, with its white walls and green Vene- 
 tians, looked spruce and habitable in the morning light. 
 Hour after hour passed, and still no sign of Northmour. 
 I knew him for a sluggard in the morning; but, as it drew 
 on towards noon, I lost my patience. To say the truth, I 
 had promised myself to break my fast in the pavilion, and 
 hunger began to prick me sharply. It was a pity to let 
 the opportunity go by without some cause for mirth; but 
 the grosser appetite prevailed, and I relinquished my jest 
 with regret, and sallied from the wood. 
 
 The appearance of the house affected me, as I drew 
 near, with disquietude. It seemed unchanged since last 
 evening; and I had expected it, I scarce knew why, to 
 wear some external signs of habitation. But no; the 
 windows were all closely shuttered, the chimneys breathed 
 no smoke, and the front door itself was closely padlocked. 
 Northmour, therefore, had entered by the back; this was 
 the natural, and, indeed, the necessary conclusion; and 
 you may judge of my surprise when, on turning the house, 
 I found the back door similarly secured. 
 
 My mind at once reverted to the original theory of 
 thieves; and I blamed myself sharply for my last night's 
 inaction. I examined all the windows on the lower story, 
 but none of them had been tampered with; I tried the 
 padlocks, but they were both secure. It thus became a 
 problem how the thieves, if thieves they were, had man- 
 aged to enter the house. They must have got, I reasoned, 
 upon the roof of the outhouse where Northmour used to 
 keep his photographic battery; and from thence, either 
 by the window of the study or that of my old bedroom, 
 completed their burglarious entry 
 
 I followed what I supposed was their example; and. 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 191 
 
 getting on the roof, tried the shutters of each room. 
 Both were secure; but I was not to be beaten; and, with 
 a little force, one of them flew open, grazing, as it did so, 
 the back of my hand. I remember, I put the wound to 
 my mouth, and stood for perhaps half a minute licking 
 it like a dog, and mechanically gazing behind me over the 
 waste links and the sea; and, in that space of time, my 
 eye made note of a large schooner yacht some miles to the 
 northeast. Then I threw up the window and climbed in. 
 
 I went over the house, and nothing can express my 
 mystification. There was no sign of disorder, but, on the 
 contrary, the rooms were unusually clean and pleasant. 
 I found fires laid, ready for lighting; three bedrooms 
 prepared with a luxury quite foreign to Northmour's 
 habits, and with water in the ewers and the beds turned 
 down; a table set for three in the dining-room; and an 
 ample supply of cold meats, game and vegetables on the 
 pantry shelves. There were guests expected, that was 
 plain; but why guests, when Northmour hated society? 
 And, above all, why was the house thus stealthily prepared 
 at dead of night? and why were the shutters closed and 
 the doors padlocked? 
 
 I effaced all traces of my visit, and came forth from 
 the window feeling sobered and concerned. 
 
 The schooner yacht was still in the same place; and it 
 flashed for a moment through my mind that this might be 
 the Red Earl bringing the owner of the pavilion and his 
 guests. But the vessel's head was set the other way. 
 
192 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 TELLS OP THE NOC?rURNAL LANDING FROM THE YACHT 
 
 I returned to the den to cook myself a meal, of which I 
 stood in great need, as well as to care for my horse, whom 
 I had somewhat neglected in the morning. From time to 
 time I went down to the edge of the wood; but there was 
 no change in the pavilion, and not a human creature was 
 seen all day upon the links. The schooner in the offing 
 was the one touch of life within my range of vision. She, 
 apparently with no set object, stood off and on or lay to, 
 hour after hour; but as the evening deepened, she drew 
 steadily nearer. I became more convinced that she carried 
 Northmour and his friends, and thElt they would probably 
 come ashore after dark; not only because that was of a 
 piece with the secrecy of the preparations, but because 
 the tide would not have flowed sufficiently before eleven 
 to cover Graden Floe and the other sea quags that fortified 
 the shore against invaders. 
 
 All day the wind had been going down, and the sea 
 along with it; but there was a return towards sunset of 
 the heavy weather of the day before. The night set in 
 pitch dark. The wind came off the sea in squalls, like 
 the firing of a battery of cannon; now and then there was 
 a flaw of rain, and the surf rolled heavier with the rising 
 tide. I was down at my observatory among the elders, 
 when a light was run up to the masthead of the schooner, 
 and showed she was closer in than when I had last seen 
 her by the dying daylight. I concluded that this must be 
 a signal to Northmour's associates on shore; and, stepping 
 forth into the links, looked around me for something in 
 response. 
 
 A small footpath ran along the margin of the wood, and 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 193 
 
 formed the most direct communication between the pa- 
 vilion and the mansion house; and, as I cast my eyes to 
 that side, I saw a spark of light, not a quarter of a mile 
 away, and rapidly approaching. From its uneven course 
 it appeared to be the light of a lantern carried by a person 
 who followed the windings of the path, and was often 
 staggered and taken aback by the more violent squalls. 
 I concealed myself once more among the elders, and waited 
 eagerly for the new comer's advance. It proved to be a 
 woman; and, as she passed within half a rod of my am- 
 bush, I was able to recognize the features. The deaf and 
 silent old dame, who had nursed Northmour in his child- 
 hood, was his associate in this underhand affair. 
 
 I followed her at a little distance, taking advantage of 
 the innumerable heights and hollows, concealed by the 
 darkness, and favored not only by the nurse's deafness, 
 but the uproar of the wind and surf. She entered the 
 pavilion, and, going at once to the upper story, opened and 
 set a light in one of the windows that looked towards the 
 sea. Immediately afterwards the light at the schooner's 
 masthead was run down and extinguished. Its purpose 
 had been attained, and those on board were sure that 
 they were expected. The old woman resumed her prep- 
 arations; although the other shutters remained closed, I 
 could see a glimmer going to Mid fro about the house; 
 and a gush of sparks from one chimney after another soon 
 told me that the fires were being kindled. 
 
 Northmour and his guests, I was now persuaded, would 
 come ashore as soon as there was water on the floe. It 
 was a wild night for boat service; and I felt some alarm 
 mingle with my curiosity as I reflected on the danger of 
 the landing. My old acquaintance, it was true, was the 
 most eccentric of men; but the present eccentricity was 
 both disquieting and lugubrious to consider. A variety 
 
194 NEW AEABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 of feelings thus led me towards the beach, where I lay flat 
 on my face in a hollow within six feet of the track that 
 led to the pavilion. Thence, I should have the satisfaction 
 of recognizing the arrivals, and, if they should prove to be 
 acquaintances, greeting them as soon as they had landed. 
 
 Some time before eleven, while the tide was still danger- 
 ously low, a boat's lantern appeared close in shore; and, 
 my attention being thus awakened, I could perceive 
 another still far to seaward, violently tossed, and some- 
 times hidden by the billows. The weather, which was 
 getting dirtier as the night went on, and the perilous 
 situation of the yach', upon a lee-shore, had probably 
 driven them to attempt a landing at the earliest possible 
 moment. 
 
 A little afterwards, four yachtsmen carrying a very 
 heavy chest, and guided by a fifth with a lantern, passed 
 close in front of me as I lay, and were admitted to the 
 pavilion by the nurse. They returned to the beach, and 
 passed me a third time with another chest, larger but 
 apparently not so heavy as the first. A third time they 
 made the transit; and on this occasion one of the yachts- 
 men carried a leather portmanteau, and the others a lady's 
 trunk and carriage bag. My curiosity was sharply excited. 
 If a woman were among the guests of Northmour, it would 
 show a change in his habits and an apostasy from his pet 
 theories of life, well calculated to fill me with surprise. 
 When he and I dwelt there together, the pavilion had been 
 a temple of misogyny. And now, one of the detested sex 
 was to be installed under its roof. I remembered one or 
 two particulars, a few notes of daintiness and almost of 
 coquetry which had struck me the day before as I surveyed 
 the preparations in the house; their purpose was now 
 clear, and I thought myself dull not to have perceived it 
 from the first. 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 195 
 
 While I was thus reflecting a second lantern drew near 
 me from the beach. It was carried by a yachtsman whom 
 I had not yet seen, and who was conducting two other 
 persons to the pavilion. These two persons were un- 
 questionably the guests for whom the house was made 
 ready; and, straining eye and ear, I set myself to watch 
 them as they passed. One was an unusually tall man, in 
 a traveling hat slouched over his eyes, and a highland 
 cape closely buttoned and turned up so as to conceal his 
 face. You could make out no more of him than that he 
 was, as I have said, unusually tall, and walked feebly 
 with a heavy stoop. By his side, and either clinging to 
 him or giving him support — I could not make out which — 
 was a young, tall, and slender figure of a woman. She 
 was extremely pale; but in the light of the lantern her 
 face was so marred by strong and changing shadows, that 
 she might equally well have been as ugly as sin or as 
 beautiful as I afterwards found her to be. 
 
 When they were just abreast of me, the girl made some 
 remark which was drowned by the noise of the wind. 
 
 "Hush!" said her companion; and there was something 
 in the tone with which the word was uttered that thrilled 
 and rather shook my spirits. It seemed to breathe from a 
 bosom laboring under the deadliest terror; I have never 
 heard another syllable so expressive; and I still hear it 
 again when I am feverish at night, and my mind runs 
 upon old times. The man turned towards the girl as he 
 spoke; I had a glimpse of much red beard and a nose which 
 seemed to have been broken in youth; and his light eye 
 seemed shining in his face with some strong and unpleasant 
 emotion. 
 
 But these two passed on and were admitted in their 
 turn to the pavilion. 
 
 One by one, or in groups, the seamen returned to the 
 
196 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 beach. The wind brought me the sound of a rough voice 
 crying, ' ' Shove off ! " Then, after a pause, another lantern 
 drew near. It was Northmour alone. 
 
 My wife and I, a man and a woman, have often agreed 
 to wonder how a person could be, at the same time, so 
 handsome and so repulsive as Northmour. He had the 
 appearance of a finished gentleman; his face bore every 
 mark of intelligence and courage, but you had only to 
 look at him, even in his most amiable moment, to see that 
 he had the temper of a slave captain. I never knew a 
 character that was both explosive and revengeful to the 
 same degree; he combined the vivacity of the south with 
 the sustained and deadly hatreds of the north; and both 
 traits were plainly written on his face, which was a sort 
 of danger signal. In person he was tall, strong, and 
 active; his hair and complexion very dark; his features 
 handsomely designed, but spoiled by a menacing expres- 
 sion. 
 
 At that moment he was somewhat paler than by nature; 
 he wore a heavy frown; and his lips worked, and he looked 
 sharply round as he walked, like a man besieged with ap- 
 prehensions. And yet I thought he had a look of triumph 
 underlying all, as though he had already done much, and 
 was near the end of an achievement. 
 
 Partly from a scruple of delicacy — ^which I dare say 
 came too late — partly from the pleasure of startling an 
 acquaintance, I desired to make my presence known to 
 him without delay. 
 
 I got suddenly to my feet, and stepped forward. 
 
 "Northmour!" said I. 
 
 I have never had so shocking a surprise in all my days. 
 He leaped on me without a word; something shone in his 
 hand; and he struck for my heart with a dagger. At the 
 same moment I knocked him head over heels. Whether it 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 197 
 
 was my quickness, or his own uncertainty, I know not; 
 but the blade only grazed my shoulder while the hilt and 
 his fist struck me violently on the mouth. 
 
 I fled, but not far. I had often and often observed the 
 capabilities of the sand-hills for protracted ambush or 
 stealthy advances and retreats; and, not ten yards from 
 the scene of the scuffle, plumped down again upon the 
 grass. The lantern had fallen and gone out. But what 
 was my astonishment to see Northmour slip at a bound 
 into the pavilion, and hear him bar the door behind him 
 with a clang of iron! 
 
 He had not pursued me. He had run away. North- 
 mour, whom I knew for the most implacable and daring 
 of men, had run away! I could scarce believe my reason; 
 and yet in this strange business, where all was incredible, 
 there was nothing to make a work about in an incredi- 
 bility more or less. For why was the pavilion secretly 
 prepared? Why had Northmour landed with his guests at 
 dead of night, in half a gale of wind, and with the floe 
 scarce covered? Why had he sought to kill me? Had he 
 not recognized my voice? I wondered. And, above all, 
 how had he come to have a dagger ready in his hand? A 
 dagger, or even a sharp knife, seemed out of keeping with 
 the age in which we lived; and a gentleman landing from 
 his yacht on the shore of his own estate, even although it 
 was at night and with some mysterious circumstances, does 
 not usually, as a matter of fact, walk thus prepared for 
 deadly onslaught. The more I reflected, the further I felt 
 at sea. I recapitulated the elements of mystery, counting 
 them on my fingers: the pavilion secretly prepared for 
 guests; the guests landed at the risk of their lives and 
 to the imminent peril of the yacht; the guests, or at least 
 one of them, in undisguised and seemingly causeless terror; 
 Northmour with a naked weapon; Northmour stabbing 
 
198 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 his most intimate acquaintance at a word; last, and not 
 least strange, Northmour fleeing from the man whom he 
 had sought to murder, and barricading himself, like a 
 hunted creature, behind the door of the pavilion. Here 
 were at least six separate causes for extreme surprise; 
 each part and parcel with the others, and forming all to- 
 gether one consistent story. I felt almost ashamed to 
 believe my own senses. 
 
 As I thus stood transfixed with wonder, I began to grow 
 painfully conscious of the injuries I had received in the 
 scuffle; skulked round among the sand-hills; and, by a 
 devious path, regained the shelter of the wood. On the 
 way, the old nurse passed again within several yards of 
 me, still carrying her lantern, on the return journey to 
 the mansion house of Graden. This made a seventh sus- 
 picious feature in the case. Northmour and his guests, 
 it appeared, were to cook and do the cleaning for them- 
 selves, while the old woman continued to inhabit the big 
 empty barrack among the policies. There must surely be 
 great cause for secrecy, when so many inconveniences 
 were confronted to preserve it. 
 
 So thinking, I made my way to the den. For greater 
 security, I trod out the embers of the fire, and lit my 
 lantern to examine the wound upon my shoulder. It was 
 a trifling hurt, although it bled somewhat freely, and I 
 dressed it as well as I could (for its position made it 
 difficult to reach) with some rag and cold water from the 
 spring. While I was thus busied, I mentally declared war 
 against Northmour and his mystery. I am not an angry 
 man by nature, and I believe there was more curiosity 
 than resentment in my heart. But war I certainly de- 
 clared; and, by way of preparation, I got out my revolver, 
 and, having drawn the charges, cleaned and reloaded it 
 with scrupulous care. Next I became preoccupied about 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 199 
 
 my horse. It might break loose, or fall to neighing, and 
 so betray my camp in the Sea- Wood. I determined to rid 
 myself of its neighborhood; and long before dawn I was 
 leading it over the links in the direction of the fisher 
 village. 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 TELLS HOW I BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH MY WIPE 
 
 For two days I skulked round the pavilion, profiting by 
 the uneven surface of the links. I became an adept in the 
 necessary tactics. These low hillocks and shallow dells, 
 running one into another, became a kind of cloak of dark- 
 ness for my enthralling, but perhaps dishonorable, pursuit. 
 Yet, in spite of this advantage, I could learn but little of 
 Northmour or his guests. 
 
 Fresh provisions were brought under cover of darkness 
 by the old woman from the mansion house. Northmour, 
 and the young lady, sometimes together, but more often 
 singly, would walk for an hour or two at a time on the 
 beach beside the quicksand. I could not but conclude 
 that this promenade was chosen with an eye to secrecy; 
 for the spot was open only to the seaward. But it suited 
 me not less excellently; the highest and most accidented 
 of the sand-hills immediately adjoined; and from these, 
 lying flat in a hollow, I could overlook Northmour or the 
 young lady as they walked. 
 
 The tall man seemed to have disappeared. Not only 
 did he never cross the threshold, but he never so much as 
 showed face at a window; or, at least, not so far as I 
 could see; for I dared not creep forward beyond a certain 
 distance in the day, since the upper floor commanded the 
 bottoms of the links; and at night, when I could venture 
 farther, the lower|windows were barricaded as if to stand 
 
200 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 a siege. Sometimes I thought the tall man must be con- 
 fined to bed, for I remembered the feebleness of his gait; 
 and sometimes I thought he must have gone clear away, 
 and that Northmour and the young lady remained alone 
 together in the pavilion. The idea, even then, displeased 
 me. 
 
 Whether or not this pair were man and wife, I had seen 
 abundant reason to doubt the friendliness of their rela- 
 tion. Although I could hear nothing of what they said, 
 and rarely so much as glean a decided expression on the 
 face of either, there was a distance, almost a stiffness, in 
 their bearing which showed them to be either unfamiliar 
 or at enmity. The girl walked faster when she was with 
 Northmour than when she was alone; and I conceived that 
 any inclination between a man and a woman would rather 
 delay than accelerate the step. Moreover, she kept a 
 good yard free of him, and trailed her umbrella, as if it 
 were a barrier, on the side between them. Northmour 
 kept sidling closer; and, as the girl retired from his 
 advance, their course lay at. a sort of diagonal across the 
 beach, and would have landed them in the surf had it been 
 long enough continued. But, when it was imminent, the 
 girl would unostentatiously change sides and put North- 
 mour between her and the sea. I watched these manoeu- 
 vres, for my part, with high enjoyment and approval, and 
 chuckled to myself at every move. 
 
 On the morning of the third day, she walked alone for 
 some time, and I perceived, to my great concern, that she 
 was more than once in tears. You will see that my heart 
 was already interested more than I supposed. She had a 
 firm yet airy motion of the body, and carried her head 
 with unimaginable grace; every step was a thing to look 
 at, and she seemed in my eyes to breathe sweetness and 
 distinction. 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 201 
 
 The day was so agreeable, being calm and sunshiny, 
 with a tranquil sea, and yet with a healthful piquancy 
 and vigor in the air, that, contrary to custom, she was 
 tempted forth a second time to walk. On this occasion 
 she was accompanied by Northmour, and they had been 
 but a short while on the beach, when I saw him take 
 forcible possession of her hand. She struggled, and ut- 
 tered a cry that was almost a scream. I sprang to my 
 feet, unmindful of my strange position; but, ere I had 
 taken a step, I saw Northmour bare-headed and bowing 
 very low, as if to apologize; and dropped again at once 
 into my ambush. A few words were interchanged; and 
 then, with another bow, he left the beach to return to the 
 pavilion. He passed not far from me, and I could see 
 him, flushed and lowering, and cutting savagely with his 
 cane among the grass. It was not without satisfaction 
 that I recognized my own handiwork in a great cut under 
 his right eye, and a considerable discoloration round the 
 socket. 
 
 For some time the girl remained where he had left her, 
 looking out past the islet and over the bright sea. Then 
 with a start, as one who throws off preoccupation and 
 puts energy again upon its mettle, she broke into a rapid 
 and decisive walk. She also was much incensed by what 
 had passed. She had forgotten where she was. And I 
 beheld her walk straight into the borders of the quicksand 
 where it is most abrupt and dangerous. Two or three 
 steps farther and her life would have been in serious 
 jeopardy, when I slid down the face of the sand-hill, which 
 is there precipitous, and, running half-way forward, 
 called to her to stop. 
 
 She did so, and turned round. There was not a tremor 
 of fear in her behavior, and she marched directly up to 
 me like a queen, I was barefoot, and clad like a common 
 
202 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 sailor, save for an Egyptian scarf round my waist; and 
 she probably took me at first for some one from the fisher 
 village, straying after bait. As for her, when I thus saw 
 her face to face, her eyes set steadily and imperiously 
 upon mine, I was filled with admiration and astonish- 
 ment, and thought her even more beautiful than I had 
 looked to find her. Nor could I think enough of one who, 
 acting with so much boldness, yet preserved a maidenly 
 air that was both quaint and engaging; for my wife kept 
 an old-fashioned precision of manner through all her ad- 
 mirable life — an excellent thing in woman, since it sets 
 another value on her sweet familiarities. 
 
 "What does this mean?" she asked. 
 
 "You were walking, " I told her, "directly into Graden 
 Floe." 
 
 "You do not belong to these parts," she said again. 
 "You speak like an educated man." 
 
 "I believe I have a right to that name," said I, "al- 
 though in this disguise." 
 
 But her woman's eye had already detected the sash. 
 
 "Oh!" she said; "your sash betrays you." 
 
 "You have said the word betray," I resumed. "May I 
 ask you not to betray me? I was obliged to disclose 
 myself in your interest; but if Northmour learned my 
 presence it might be worse than disagreeable for me." 
 
 "Do you know," she asked, "to whom you are speak- 
 ing?" 
 
 "Not to Mr. Northmour's wife?" I asked, by way of 
 answer. 
 
 She shook her head. All this while she was studying 
 my face with an embarrassing intentness. Then she broke 
 out — 
 
 "You have an honest face. Be honest like your face, 
 sir, and tell me what you want and what you are afraid 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 203 
 
 of. Do you think I could hurt you? I believe you have 
 far more power to injure me! And yet you do not look 
 unkind. What do you mean — you, a gentleman — by 
 skulking like a spy about this desolate place? Tell me," 
 she said, "who is it you hate?" 
 
 "I hate no one," I answered; "and I fear no one face 
 to face. My name is Cassilis — Frank Cassilis. I lead 
 the life of a vagabond for my own good pleasure. I am 
 one of Northmour's oldest friends; and three nights ago, 
 when I addressed him on these links, he stabbed me in the 
 shoulder with a knife." 
 
 "It was you!" she said. 
 
 ' 'Why he did so, " I continued, disregarding the inter- 
 ruption, "is more than I can guess, and more than I care 
 to know. I have not many friends, nor am I very suscep- 
 tible to friendship; but no man shall drive me from a 
 place by terror. I had camped in Graden Sea- Wood ere 
 he came; I camp in it still. If you think I mean harm to 
 you or yours, madam, the remedy is in your hand. Tell 
 him that my camp is in the Hemlock Den, and ^to-night 
 he can stab me in safety while I sleep. ' ' 
 
 With this I doffed my cap to her, and scrambled up 
 once more among the sand-hills. I do not know why, but 
 I felt a prodigious sense of injustice, and felt like a hero 
 and a martyr; while, as a matter of fact, I had not a word 
 to say in my defence, nor so much as one plausible reason 
 to offer for my conduct. I had stayed at Graden out of a 
 curiosity natural enough, but undignified; and though 
 there was another motive growing in along with the first, 
 it was not one which, at that period, I could have properly 
 explained to the lady of my heart. 
 
 Certainly, that night, I thought of no one else; and, 
 though her whole conduct and position seemed suspicious, 
 I could not find it in my heart to entertain a doubt of her 
 
204 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 integrity. I could have staked my life that she was clear 
 of blame, and, though all was dark at the present, that 
 the explanation of the mystery would show her part in 
 these events to be both right and needful. It was true, 
 let me cudgel my imagination as I pleased, that I could 
 invent no theory of her relations toNorthmour; but I felt 
 none the less sure of my conclusion because it was founded 
 on instinct in place of reason, and, as I may say, went to 
 sleep that night with the thought of her under my pillow. 
 
 Next day she came out about the same hour alone, and, 
 as soon as the sand-hills concealed her from the pavilion, 
 drew nearer to the edge, and called me by name in 
 guarded tones. I was astonished to observe that she was 
 deadly pale, and seemingly under the influence of strong 
 emotion. 
 
 "Mr. Cassilis!" she cried; "Mr. Cassilis!" 
 
 I appeared at once, and leaped down upon the beach. 
 A remarkable air of relief overspread her countenance as 
 soon as she saw me, 
 
 "Oh!" she cried, with a hoarse sound, like one whose 
 bosom has been lightened of weight. And then, "Thank 
 God, you are still safe!" she added; "I knew, if you 
 were, you would be here. ' ' (Was not this strange? So 
 swiftly and wisely does Nature prepare our hearts for 
 these great life-long intimacies, that both my wife and I 
 had been given a presentiment on this the second day of 
 our acquaintance. I had even then hoped that she would 
 seek me; she had felt sure that she would find me.) "Do 
 not," she went on swiftly, "do not stay in this place. 
 Promise me that you will sleep no longer in that wood. 
 You do not know how I suffer; all last night I could not 
 sleep for thinking of your peril. ' ' 
 
 "Peril?" I repeated. "Peril from whom? From 
 Northmour?" 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 205 
 
 "Not SO," she said. "Did you think I would tell him 
 after what you said?" 
 
 "Not from Northmour?" I repeated. "Then how? 
 From whom? I see none to be afraid of." 
 
 "You must not ask me," was her reply, "for I am not 
 free to tell you. Only believe me, and go hence — ^believe 
 me, and go away quickly, quickly, for your life!" 
 
 An appeal to his alarm is never a good plan to rid 
 oneself of a spirited young man. My obstinacy was but 
 increased by what she said, and I made it a point of honor 
 to remain. And her solicitude for my safety still more 
 confirmed me in the resolve. 
 
 "You must not think me inquisitive, madam," I re- 
 plied; "but, if Graden is so dangerous a place, you your- 
 self perhaps remain here at some risk." 
 
 She only looked at me reproachfully. 
 
 "You and your father — ," I resumed; but she inter- 
 rupted me almost with a gasp. 
 
 "My father! How do you know that?" she cried. 
 
 ' ' I saw you together when you landed, ' ' was my answer ; 
 and I do not know why, but it seemed satisfactory to both 
 of us, as indeed it was the truth. "But," I continued, 
 "you need have no fear from me. I see you have some 
 reason to be secret, and, you may believe me, your secret 
 is as safe with me as if I were in Graden Floe. I have 
 scarce spoken to anyone for years; my horse is my only 
 companion, and even he, poor beast, is not beside me. 
 You see, then, you may count on me for silence. So 
 tell me the truth, my dear young lady, are you not in 
 danger?" 
 
 "Mr. Northmour says you are an honorable man," she 
 returned, "and I believe it when I see you. I will tell 
 you so much; you are right; we are in dreadful, dreadful 
 danger, and you share it by remaining where you are. ' ' 
 
206 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Ah!" said I; "you have heard of me from North- 
 mour? And he gives me a good character?" 
 
 ' 'I asked him about you last night, ' ' was her reply, ' 'I 
 pretended," she hesitated, "I pretended to have met you 
 long ago, and spoken to you of him. It was not true; 
 but I could not help myself without betraying you, and 
 you had put me in a difficulty. He praised you highly." 
 
 "And — ^you may permit me one question — does this 
 danger come from Northmour?" I asked. 
 
 "From Mr. Northmour?" she cried. "Oh.'no; he stays 
 with us to share it." 
 
 "While you propose that I should run away?" I said. 
 "You do not rate me very high." 
 
 "Why should you stay?" she asked. "You are no 
 friend of ours." 
 
 I know not what came over me, for I had not been con- 
 scious of a similar weakness since I was a child, but I was 
 so mortified by this retort that my eyes pricked and filled 
 with tears, as I continued to gaze upon her face, 
 
 "No, no," she said, in a changed voice; "I did not 
 mean the words unkindly. ' ' 
 
 "It was I who offended," I said; and I held out my 
 hand with a look of appeal that somehow touched her, for 
 she gave me hers at once, and even eagerly. I held it 
 for awhile in mine, and gazed into her eyes. It was she 
 who first tore her hand away, and, forgetting all about 
 her request and the promise she had sought to extort, ran 
 at the top of her speed, and without turning, till she was 
 out of sight. And then I knew that I loved her, and 
 thought in my glad heart that -she — she herself — was not 
 indifferent to my suit. Many a time she has denied it in 
 after days, but it was with a smiling and not a serious 
 denial. For my part, I am sure our hands would not have 
 lain so closely in each other if she had not begun to melt 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 207 
 
 to me already. And, when all is said, it is no great con- 
 tention, since, by her own avowal, she began to love me 
 on the morrow. 
 
 And yet on the morrow very little took place. She 
 came and called me down as on the day before, upbraided 
 me for lingering at Graden, and, when she found I was 
 still obdurate, began to ask me more particularly as to 
 my arrival. I told her by what series of accidents I had 
 come to witness their disembarkation, and how I had de- 
 termined to remain, partly from the interest which had 
 been wakened in me by Northmour's guests, and partly 
 because of his own murderous attack. As to the former, 
 I fear I was disingenuous, and led her to regard herself 
 as having been an attraction to me from the first moment 
 that I saw her on the links. It relieves my heart to make 
 this confession even now, when my wife is with God, and 
 already knows all things, and the honesty of my purpose 
 even in this; for while she lived, although it often pricked 
 my conscience, I had never the hardihood to undeceive 
 her. Even a little secret, in such a married life as ours, 
 is like the rose-leaf which kept the Princess from her 
 sleep. 
 
 From this the talk branched into other subjects, and I 
 told her much about my lonely and wandering existence; 
 she, for her part, giving ear, and saying little. Although 
 we spoke very naturally, and latterly on topics that might 
 seem indifferent, we were both sweetly agitated. Too 
 soon it was time for her to go; and we separated, as if 
 by mutual consent, without shaking hands, for both knew 
 that, between us, it was no idle ceremony. 
 
 The next, and that was the fourth day of our acquaint- 
 ance, we met in the same spot, but early in the morning, 
 with much familiarity and yet much timidity on either 
 side. When she had once more spoken about my danger 
 
208 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 — and that, I understood, was her excuse for coming — I, 
 who had prepared a great deal of talk during the night, 
 began to tell her how highly I valued her kind interest, 
 and how no one had ever cared to hear about my life, nor 
 had I ever cared to relate it, before yesterday. Suddenly 
 she interrupted me, saying with vehemence: 
 
 "And yet, if you knew who I was, you would not so 
 much as speak to me!" 
 
 I told her such a thought was madness, and, little as we 
 had met, I counted her already a dear friend ; but my 
 protestations seemed only to make her more desperate. 
 
 "My father is in hiding!" she cried. 
 
 "My dear," I said, forgetting for the first time to add 
 "young lady," "what do I care? If he were in hiding 
 twenty times over, would it make one thought of change 
 in you?" 
 
 "Ah, but the cause!" she cried, "the cause! It is — " 
 she faltered for a second — "it is disgraceful to us!" 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 TELLS IN WHAT A STARTUNG MANNER I LEARNED 
 THAT 1 WAS NOT ALONE IN GRADEN SEA-WOOD 
 
 This was my wife's story, as I drew it from her among 
 tears and sobs. Her name was Clara Huddlestone: it 
 sounded very beautiful in my ears; but not so beautiful 
 as that other name of Clara Cassilis, which she wore dur- 
 ing the longer and, I thank God, the happier portion of 
 her life. Her father, Bernard Huddlestone, had been a 
 private banker in a very large way of business. Many 
 years before, his affairs becoming disordered, he had been 
 led to try dangerous, and at last criminal, expedients to 
 retrieve himself from ruin. All was in vain; he became 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 209 
 
 more and more cruelly involved, and found his honor lost 
 at the same moment with his fortune. About this period, 
 Northmour had been courting his daughter with great 
 assiduity, though with small encouragement; and to him, 
 knowing him thus disposed in his favor, Bernard Huddle- 
 stone turned for help in his extremity. It was not merely 
 ruin and dishonor, nor merely a legal condemnation, that 
 the unhappy man had brought on his head. It seems he 
 could have gone to prison with a light heart. What he 
 feared, what kept him awake at night or recalled him 
 from slumber into frenzy, was some secret, sudden, and 
 unlawful attempt upon his life. Hence, he desired to 
 bury his existence and escape to one of the islands in the 
 South Pacific, and it was in Northmour's yacht, the Red 
 Earl, that he designed to go. The yacht picked them up 
 clandestinely upon the coast of Wales, and had once more 
 deposited them at Graden, till she could be refitted and 
 provisioned for the longer voyage. Nor could Clara 
 doubt that her hand had been stipulated as the price of 
 passage. For, although Northmour was neither unkind 
 or discourteous, he had shown himself in several in- 
 stances somewhat overbold in speech and manner, 
 
 I listened, I need not say, with fixed attention, and 
 put many questions as to the more mysterious part. It 
 was in vain. She had no clear idea of what the blow 
 was, nor of how it was expected to fall. Her father's 
 alarm was unfeigned and physically prostrating, and he 
 had thought more than once of making an unconditional 
 surrender to the police. But the scheme was finally 
 abandoned, for he was convinced that not even the 
 strength of our English prisons could shelter him from 
 his pursuers. He had had many affairs with Italy, and 
 with Italians resident in London, in the later years of his 
 business; and these last, as Clara fancied, were somehow 
 
210 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 connected with the doom that threatened him. He had 
 shown great terror at the presence of an Italian seaman 
 on board the Red Earl, and had bitterly and repeatedly 
 accused Northmour in consequence. The latter had pro- 
 tested that Beppo (that was the seaman's name) was a 
 capital fellow, and could be trusted to the death; but Mr. 
 Huddlestone had continued ever since to declare that all 
 was lost, that it was only a question of days, and that 
 Beppo would be the ruin of him yet. 
 
 I regarded the whole story as the hallucination of a 
 mind shaken by calamity. He had suffered heavy loss by 
 his Italian transactions; and hence the sight of an Italian 
 was hateful to him, and the principal part in his night- 
 mare would naturally enough be played by one of that 
 nation. 
 
 "What your father wants," I said, "is a good doctor 
 and some calming medicine." 
 
 "But Mr. Northmour?" objected your mother. "He 
 is untroubled by losses, and yet he shares in this terror." 
 
 I could not help laughing at what I considered her 
 simplicity. 
 
 "My dear," said I, "you have told me yourself what 
 reward he has to look for. All is fair in love, you must 
 remember; and if Northmour foments your father's ter- 
 rors, it is not at all because he is afraid of any Italian 
 man, but simply because he is infatuated with a charming 
 English woman." 
 
 She reminded me of his attack upon myself on the night 
 of the disembarkation, and this I was unable to explain. 
 In short, and from one thing to another, it was agreed 
 between us, that I should set out at once for the fisher 
 village, Graden Wester, as it was called, look up all the 
 newspapers I could find, and see for myself if there seemed 
 any basis of fact for these continued alarms. The next 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 211 
 
 morning, at the same hour and place, I was to make my 
 report to Clara. She said no more on that occasion about 
 my departure; nor indeed, did she make it a secret that 
 she clung to the thought of my proximity as something 
 helpful and pleasant; and, for my part, I could not have 
 left her, if she had gone upon her knees to ask it. 
 
 I reached Graden Wester before ten in the forenoon; 
 for in those days I was an excellent pedestrian, and the 
 distance, as I think I have said, was little over seven 
 miles; fine walking all the way upon the springy turf. 
 The village is one of the bleakest on that coast, which is 
 saying much: there is a church in a hollow, a miserable 
 haven in the rocks, where many boats have been lost as 
 they returned from fishing; two or three score of stone 
 houses arranged along the beach and in two streets, one 
 leading from the harbor, and another striking out from it 
 at right angles; and, at the corner of these two, a very 
 dark and cheerless tavern, by way of principal hotel. 
 
 I had dressed myself somewhat more suitably to my 
 station in life, and at once called upon the minister in 
 his little manse beside the graveyard. He knew me, al- 
 though it was more than nine years since we had met; 
 and when I told him that I had been long upon a walking 
 tour, and was behind with the news, readily lent me an 
 armful of newspapers, dating from a month back to the 
 day before. With these I sought the tavern, and, order- 
 ing some breakfast, sat down to study the "Huddlestone 
 Failure." 
 
 It had been, it appeared, a very flagrant case. Thou- 
 sands of persons were reduced to poverty; and one in 
 particular had blown out his brains as soon as payment 
 was suspended. It was strange to myself that, while I 
 read these details, I continued rather to sympathize with 
 Mr. Huddlestone than with his victims; so complete al- 
 
212 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 ready was the empire of my love for my wife, A price 
 was naturally set upon the banker's head; and, as the 
 case was inexcusable and the public indignation thor- 
 oughly aroused, the unusual figure of 7501. was offered 
 for his capture. He was reported to have large sums of 
 money in his possession. One day, he had been heard of 
 in Spain; the next, there was sure intelligence that he 
 was still lurking between Manchester and Liverpool, or 
 along the border of Wales; and the day after, a telegram 
 would announce his arrival in Cuba or Yucatan. But in 
 all this there was no word of an Italian, nor any sign of 
 mystery. 
 
 In the very last paper, however, there was one item not 
 so clear. The accountants who were charged to verify 
 the failure had, it seemed, come upon the traces of a very 
 large number of thousands, which figured for some time 
 in the transactions of the house of Huddlestone; but which 
 came from nowhere, and disappeared in the same mysteri- 
 ous fashion. It was only once referred to by name, and 
 then under the initials "X. X." ; but it had plainly been 
 floated for the first time into the business at a period of 
 great depression some six years ago. The name of a dis- 
 tinguished Royal personage had been mentioned by rumor 
 in connection with this sum. "The cowardly desperado" 
 — such, I remember, was the editorial expression — was 
 supposed to have escaped with a large part of this mys- 
 terious fund still in his possession. 
 
 1 was still brooding over the fact, and trying to torture 
 it into some connection with Mr. Huddlestone's danger, 
 when a man entered the tavern and asked for some bread 
 and cheese, with a decided foreign accent. 
 
 "Siete Italiano?" said I. 
 
 "Si signor," was his reply. 
 
 I said it was unusually far north to find one of his com- 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 213 
 
 patriots; at which he shrugged his shoulders, and replied 
 that a man would go anywhere to find work. What work 
 he could hope to find at Graden Wester, I was totally un- 
 able to conceive; and the incident struck so unpleasantly 
 upon my mind, that I asked the landlord, while he was 
 counting me some change, whether he had ever before 
 seen an Italian in the village. He said he had once seen 
 some Norwegians, who had been shipwrecked on the other 
 side of Graden Ness and rescued by the lifeboat from 
 Cauld-haven. 
 
 "No!" said I; "but an Italian, like the man who has 
 just had bread and cheese." 
 
 "What?" cried he, "yon black-avised fellow wi' the 
 teeth? Was he an I-talian? Weel, yon's the first that 
 ever I saw, an' I dare say he's like to be the last." 
 
 Even as he was speaking, I raised my eyes, and, casting 
 a glance into the street, beheld three men in earnest con- 
 versation together, and not thirty yards away. One of 
 them was my recent companion in the tavern parlor; the 
 other two, by their handsome, sallow features and soft 
 hats, should evidently belong to the same race. A crowd 
 of village children stood around them, gesticulating and 
 talking gibberish in imitation. The trio looked singularly 
 foreign to the bleak dirty street in which they were 
 standing, and the dark gray heaven that overspread them; 
 and I confess my incredulity received at that moment a 
 shock from which it never recovered. I might reason 
 with myself as I pleased, but I could not argue down the 
 effect of what I had seen, and I began to share in the 
 Italian terror. 
 
 It was already drawing towards the close of the day 
 before I had returned the newspapers at the manse, and 
 got well forward on to the links On my way home. I 
 shall never forget that walk. It grew very cold and bois- 
 
214 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 terous; the wind sang in the short grass about my feet; 
 thin rain showers came running on the gusts; and an 
 immense mountain range of clouds began to arise out of 
 the bosom of the sea. It would be hard to imagine a 
 more dismal evening; and whether it was from these 
 external influences, or because my nerves were already 
 affected by what I had heard and seen, my thoughts were 
 as gloomy as the weather. 
 
 The upper windows of the pavilion commanded a consid- 
 erable spread of links in Jhe direction of Graden Wester. 
 To avoid observation, it ^as necessary to hug the beach 
 until I had gained cover from the higher sand-hills on the 
 little headland, when I might strike across, through the 
 hollows, for the margin of the wood. The sun was about 
 setting; the tide was low, and all the quicksands uncov- 
 ered; and I was moving along, lost in unpleasant thought, 
 when I was suddenly thunderstruck to perceive the prints 
 of human feet. They ran parallel to my own course, but 
 low down upon the beach instead of along the border of 
 the turf; and, when I examined them, I saw at once, by 
 the size and coarseness of the impression, that it was a 
 stranger to me and to those in the pavilion who had re- 
 cently passed that way. Not only so; but from the reck- 
 lessness of the course which he had followed, steering 
 near to the most formidable portions of the sand, he was 
 as evidently a stranger to the country and to the ill- 
 repute of Graden beach. 
 
 Step by step I followed the prints; until, a quarter of 
 a mile further, I beheld them die away into the south- 
 eastern boundary of Graden Floe. There, whoever he 
 was, the miserable man had perished. One or two gulls, 
 who had, perhaps, seen him disappear, wheeled over his 
 sepulchre with their usual melancholy piping. The sun 
 had broken through the clouds by a last effort, and colored 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 215 
 
 the wide level of quicksands with a dusky purple. I stood 
 for some time gazing at the spot, chilled and disheart- 
 ened by my own reflections, and with a strong and com- 
 manding consciousness of death. I remember wondering 
 how long the tragedy had taken, and whether his screams 
 had been audible at the pavilion. And then, making a 
 strong resolution, I was about to tear myself away, when 
 a gust fiercer than usual fell upon this quarter of the 
 beach, and I saw now, whirling high in air, now skim- 
 ming lightly across the surface of the sands, a soft, black, 
 felt hat, somewhat conical in shape, such as I had remarked 
 already on the heads of the Italians. 
 
 I believe, but I am not sure, that I uttered a cry. The 
 wind was driving the hat shoreward, and I ran round the 
 border of the floe to be ready against its arrival. The 
 gust fell, dropping the hat for a while upon the quick- 
 sand, and then, once more freshening, landed it a few 
 yards from where I stood. I seized it with the interest 
 you may imagine. It had seen some service; indeed, it 
 was rustier than either of those I had seen that day upon 
 the street. The lining was red, stamped with the name 
 of the maker, which I have forgotten, and that of the 
 place of manufacture, Venedig. This (it is not yet for- 
 gotten) was the name given by the Austrians to the beau- 
 tiful city of Venice, then, and for long after, a part of 
 their dominions. 
 
 The shock was complete. I saw imaginary Italians upon 
 every side; and for the first, and, I may say, for the last 
 time in my experience, became overpowered by what is 
 called panic terror. I knew nothing, that is, to b.e afraid 
 of, and yet I admit that I was heartily afraid; and it was 
 with a sensible reluctance that I returned to my exposed 
 and solitary camp in the Sea- Wood. 
 There I ate some cold porridge which had been left over 
 
216 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 from the night before, for I was disinclined to make a 
 fire; and, feeling strengthened and reassured, dismissed 
 all these fanciful terrors from my mind, and lay down to 
 sleep with composure. 
 
 How long I may have slept it is impossible for me to 
 guess; but I was awakened at last by a sudden, blinding 
 flash of light into my face. It woke me like a blow. In 
 an instant I was upon my knees. But the light had gone 
 as suddenly as it came. The darkness was intense. And, 
 as it was blowing great guns from the sea and pouring 
 with rain, the noises of the storm effectually concealed 
 all others. 
 
 It was, I dare say, half a minute before I regained my 
 self-possession. But for two circumstances, I should have 
 thought I had been awakened by some new and vivid form 
 of nightmare. First, the flap of my tent, which I had 
 shut carefully when I retired, was now unfastened; and, 
 second, I could still perceive, with a sharpness that ex- 
 cluded any theory of hallucination, the smell of hot metal 
 and of burning oil. The conclusion was obvious. I had 
 been awakened by some one flashing a bull's-eye lantern 
 in my face. It had been but a flash, and away. He had 
 seen my face, and then gone. I asked myself the object 
 of so strange a proceeding, and the answer came pat. 
 The man, whoever he was, had thought to recognize 
 me, and he had not. There was yet another question 
 unsolved; and to this, I may say, I feared to give an 
 answer; if he had recognized me, what would he have 
 done? 
 
 My fears were immediately diverted from myself, for I 
 saw that I had been visited in a mistake; and I became 
 persuaded that some dreadful danger threatened the pa- 
 vilion. It required some nerve to issue forth into the 
 black and intricate thicket which surrounded and over- 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 217 
 
 hong the den; but I groped my way to the links, drenched 
 with rain, beaten upon and deafened by the gusts, and 
 fearing at every step to lay my hand upon some lurking 
 adversary. The darkness was so complete that I might 
 have been surrounded by an army and yet none the wiser, 
 and the uproar of the gale so loud that my hearing was as 
 useless as my sight. 
 
 For the rest of the night, which seemed interminably 
 long, I patroled the vicinity of the pavilion, without see- 
 ing a living creature or hearing any noise but the concert 
 of the wind, the sea, and the rain. A light in the upper 
 story filtered through a cranny in the shutter, and. kept 
 me company till the approach of dawn. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 TELLS OP AN INTERVIEW BETWEEN NORTHMOUB, CLARA, 
 
 AND MYSELF 
 
 With the first peep of day, I retired from the open to 
 my old lair among the sand-hills, there to await the com- 
 ing of my wife. The morning was gray, wild, and melan- 
 choly; the wind moderated before sunrise, and then went 
 about, and blew in puffs from the shore; the sea began to 
 go down, but the rain still fell without mercy. Over all 
 the wilderness of links there was not a creature to be seen. 
 Yet I felt sure the neighborhood was alive with skulking 
 foes. The light had been so suddenly and surprisingly 
 flashed upon my face as I lay sleeping, and the hat that 
 had been blown ashore by the wind from over Graden 
 Floe, were two speaking signals of the peril that environed 
 Clara and the party in the pavilion. 
 
 It was, perhaps, half -past seven, or nearer eight, before 
 I saw the door open, and that dear figure come towar*** 
 
218 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 me in the rain. I was waiting for her on the beach before 
 she had crossed the sand-hills. 
 
 "I have had such trouble to come!" she cried. "They 
 did not wish me to go walking in the rain." 
 
 "Clara," I said, "you are not frightened!" 
 
 "No," said she, with a simplicity that filled my heart 
 with confidence. For my wife was the bravest as well as 
 the best of women; in my experience, I have not found 
 the two go always together, but with her they did; and 
 she combined the extreme of fortitude with the most 
 endearing and beautiful virtues. 
 
 I told her what had happened; and, though her cheek 
 grew visibly paler, she retained perfect control over her 
 senses. 
 
 "You see now that I am safe," said I in conclusion. 
 "They do not mean to harm me; for, had they chosen, I 
 was a dead man last night." 
 
 She laid her hand upon my arm. 
 
 "And I had no presentiment!" she cried. 
 
 Her accent thrilled me with delight. I put my arm 
 about her, and strained her to my side; and, before either 
 of us was aware, her hands were on my shoulders and my 
 lips upon her mouth. Yet up to that moment no word of 
 love had passed between us. To this time I remember the 
 touch of her cheek, which was wet and cold with the rain; 
 and many a time since, when she has been washing her 
 face, I have kissed it again for the sake of that morning 
 on the beach. Now that she is taken from me, and I 
 finish my pilgrimage alone, I recall our old loving kind- 
 ness and the deep honesty and affection which united us, 
 and my present loss seems but a trifle in comparison. 
 
 We may have thus stood for some seconds — for time 
 passes quickly with lovers — ^before we were startled by a 
 peal of laughter close at hand. It was not natural mirth. 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 219 
 
 but seemed to be affected in order to conceal an angrier 
 feeling. We both turned, though I still kept my left arm 
 about Clara's waist; nor did she seek to withdraw herself; 
 and there, a few paces off upon the beach, stood North- 
 mour, his head lowered, his hands behind his back, his 
 nostrils white with passion. 
 
 "Ah! Cassilis!" he said, as I disclosed my face. 
 
 "That same," said I; for I was not at all put about. 
 
 "And so, Miss Huddlestone, " he continued slowly but 
 savagely, ' 'this is how you keep your faith to your father 
 and to me? This is the value you set upon your father's 
 life? And you are so infatuated with this young gentle- 
 man that you must brave ruin, and decency, and common 
 human caution " 
 
 "Miss Huddlestone — " I was beginning to interrupt 
 him, when he, in his turn, cut in brutally: 
 
 "You hold your tongue,?' said he; "I am speaking to 
 that girl." 
 
 "That girl, as you call her, is my wife," said I; and 
 my wife only leaned a little nearer, so that I knew she 
 had aflSrmed my words. 
 
 "Your what?" he cried. "You lie!" 
 
 "Northmour," I said, "we all know you have a bad 
 temper, and I am the last man to be irritated by words. 
 For all that, I propose that you speak lower, for I am 
 convinced that we are not alone." 
 
 He looked round him, and it was plain my remark had 
 in some degree sobered his passion. "What do you 
 mean!" he asked. 
 
 I only said one word: "Italians." 
 
 He swore a round oath, and looked at us, from one to 
 the other. 
 
 "Mr. Cassilis knows all that I know," said my wife. 
 
 "What I want to know," he broke out, "is where the 
 
220 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 devil Mr. Cassilis comes from, and what the devil Mr. 
 Cassilis is doing here. You say you are married; that I 
 do not believe. If you were, Graden Floe would soon 
 divorce you; four minutes and a half, Cassilis, I keep my 
 private cemetery for my friends." 
 
 "It took somewhat longer," said I, "for that Italian." 
 
 He looked at me for a moment half daunted, and then, 
 almost civilly, asked me to tell my story. ' 'You have too 
 much the advantage of me, Cassilis, ' ' he added. I com- 
 plied, of course; and he listened, with several ejacula- 
 tions, while I told him howl had come to Graden; that it 
 was I whom he had tried to murder on the night of land- 
 ing; and what I had subsequently seen and heard of the 
 Italians. 
 
 "Well," said he, when I had done, "it is here at last; 
 there is no mistake about that. And what, may I ask, do 
 you propose to do?" 
 
 "I propose to stay with you and lend a hand," said I. 
 
 "You are a brave man," he returned, with a peculiar 
 intonation. 
 
 "I am not afraid," said I. 
 
 "And so," he continued, "I am to understand that you 
 two are married? And you stand up to it before my face. 
 Miss Huddlestone?" 
 
 "We are not yet married," said Clara; "but we shall 
 be as soon as we can. ' ' 
 
 ' 'Bravo ! ' ' cried Northmour. ' 'And the bargain? D — n 
 it, you're not a fool, young woman; I may call a spade a 
 spade with you. How about the bargain? You know as 
 well as I do what your father's life depends upon. I have 
 only to put my hands under my coat-tails and walk away, 
 and his throat would be cut before the evening. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Northmour," returned Clara, with great 
 spirit; "but that is what you will never do. You made a 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 221 
 
 bargain that was unworthy of a gentleman; but you are 
 a gentleman for all that, and you will never desert a man 
 whom you have begun to help. ' ' 
 
 "Aha!" said he. "You think I will give myyacht for 
 nothing? You think I will risk my life and liberty for 
 love of the old gentleman; and then, I suppose, be best 
 man at the wedding, to wind up? Well," he added, 
 with an odd smile, "perhaps you are not altogether 
 wrong. But ask Cassilis here. He knows me. Am I 
 a man to trust? Am I safe and scrupulous? Am 
 I kind?" 
 
 "I know you talk a great deal, and sometimes, I think, 
 very foolishly," replied Clara, "but I know you are a 
 gentleman, and I am not in the least afraid." 
 
 He looked at her with a peculiar approval and admira- 
 tion; then, turning to me, "Do you think I would give 
 her up without a struggle, Frank?" said he. "I tell 
 you plainly, you look out. The next time we come to 
 blows " 
 
 "Will make the third," I interrupted, smiling. 
 
 "Aye, true; so it will," he said. "I had forgotten. 
 Well, the third time's lucky." 
 
 "The third time, you mean, you will have the crew of 
 the Red Earl to help," I said. 
 
 "Do you hear him?" he asked, turning to my wife. 
 "I hear two men speaking like [cowards, " said she. 
 "I should despise myself either to think or speak like 
 that. And neither of you believe one word that you are 
 saying, which makes it the more wicked and silly.,' ' 
 
 "She's a trump!" cried Northmour. "But she's not 
 yet Mrs. Cassilis. I say no more. The present is not 
 for me." 
 
 Then my wife surprised me. 
 
 "I leave you here," she said suddenly. "My father 
 
222 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 has been too long alone. But remember this: you are to 
 be friends, for you are both good friends to me." 
 
 She has since told me her reason for this step. As long 
 as she remained, she declares that we two would have 
 continued to quarrel; and I suppose that she was right, 
 for when she was gone we fell at once into a sort of 
 confidentiality. 
 
 Northmour stared after her as she went away over the 
 sand-hill. 
 
 "She is the only woman in the world!" he exclaimed 
 with an oath. "Look at her action." 
 
 I, for my part, leaped at this opportunity for a little 
 further light. 
 
 "See here, Northmour," said I; "we are all in a tight 
 place, are we not?" 
 
 "I believe you, my boy," he answered, looking me in 
 the eyes, and with great emphasis. "We have all hell 
 upon us, that's the truth. You may believe me or not, 
 but I'm afraid of my life." 
 
 "Tell me one thing," said I. "What are they after, 
 these Italians? What do they want with Mr. Huddle- 
 stone?" 
 
 "Don't you know?" he cried. "The black old scamp 
 had carbonaro funds on a deposit — two hundred and 
 eighty thousand; and of course he gambled it away 
 on stocks. There was to have been a revolution in the 
 Tridentino, or Parma; but the revolution is off, and the 
 whole wasp's nest is after Huddlestone. We shall all be 
 lucky if we can save our skins." 
 
 "The carbonari!" I exclaimed; "God help him in- 
 deed!" 
 
 "Amen!" said Northmour. "And now, look here: I 
 have said that we are in a fix; and, frankly, I shall be 
 glad of your help. If I car 't save Huddlestone, I want 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 223 
 
 at least to save the girl. Come and stay in the pavilion; 
 and, there's my hand on it, I shall act as your friend 
 until the old man is either clear or dead. But," he 
 added, "once that is settled, you become my rival once 
 again, and I warn you— mind yourself. ' ' 
 
 "Done!" said I; and we shook hands. 
 
 "And now let us go directly to the fort," said North- 
 mour; and he began to lead the way through the rain. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 TELLS OF MY INTRODUCTION TO THE TALL MAN 
 
 We were admitted to the pavilion by Clara, and I was 
 surprised by the completeness and security of the de- 
 fences. A barricade of great strength, and yet easy to 
 displace, supported the door against any violence from 
 without; and the shutters of the dining-room, into which 
 I was led directly, and which was feebly illuminated by a 
 lamp, were even more elaborately fortified. The panels 
 were strengthened by bars and cross-bars; and these, in 
 their turn, were kept in position by a system of braces 
 and struts, some abutting on the floor, some on the roof, 
 and others, in fine, against the opposite wall of the apart- 
 ment. It was at once a solid and well-designed piece of 
 carpentry; and I did not seek to conceal my admiration. 
 
 "I am the engineer," said Northmour. "You remem- 
 ber the planks in the garden? Behold them?" 
 
 "I did not know you had so many talents," said I. 
 
 "Are you armed?" he continued, pointing to an array 
 of guns and pistols, all in admirable order, which stood 
 in line against the wall or were displayed upon the side- 
 board. 
 
 "Thank you," I returned; "I have gone armed since 
 
224 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 our last encounter. But, to tell you the truth, I have had 
 nothing to eat since early yesterday evening. ' ' 
 
 Northmour produced some cold meat, to which I 
 eagerly set myself, and a bottle of good Burgundy, by 
 which, wet as I was, I did not scruple to profit. I have 
 always been an extreme temperance man on principle; 
 but it is useless to push principle to excess, and on this 
 occasion I believe that I finished three-quarters of the 
 bottle. As I ate, I still continued to admire the prepa- 
 rations for defence. 
 
 "We could stand a siege," I said at length. 
 
 "Ye — es," drawled Northmour; "a very little one, 
 per — haps. It is not so much the strength of the pavilion 
 I misdoubt; it is the double danger that kills me. If we 
 get to shooting, wild as the country is some one is sure to 
 hear it, and then — ^why then it's the same thing, only 
 different, as they say, caged by law, or killed by car- 
 bonari. There's the choice. It is a devilish bad thing 
 to have the law against you in this world, and so I tell 
 the old gentleman up-stairs. He is quite of my way of 
 thinking." 
 
 "Speaking of that," said I, "what kind of person is 
 he." 
 
 "Oh, he?" cried the other; "he's a rancid fellow as far 
 as he goes. I should like to have his neck wrung to-mor- 
 row by all the devils in Italy. I am not in this affair for 
 him. You take me? I made a bargain for Missy's hand 
 and I mean to have it too. ' ' 
 
 "That, by the way," said I, "I understand. But how 
 will Mr. Huddlestone take my intrusion?" 
 
 "Leave that to Clara," returned Northmour. 
 
 I could have struck him in the face for this coarse 
 familiarity; but I respected the truce, as, I am bound to 
 say, did Northmour, and so long as the danger continued 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 225 
 
 not a cloud arose in our relation. I bear him this testi- 
 mony with the most unfeigned satisfaction; nor am I 
 without pride when I look back upon my own behavior. 
 For surely no two men were ever left in a position so 
 invidious and irritating. 
 
 As soon as I had done eating, we proceeded to inspect 
 the lower floor. Window by window we tried the differ- 
 ent supports, now and then making an inconsiderable 
 change; and the strokes of the hammer sounded with 
 startling loudness through the house. I proposed, I 
 remember, to make loopholes; but he told me they were 
 already made in the windows of the upper story. It was 
 an anxious business this inspection, and left me down- 
 hearted. There were two doors and five windows to pro- 
 tect, and, counting Clara, only four of us to defend them 
 against an unknown number of foes. I communicated my 
 doubts to Northmour, who assured me, with unmoved 
 composure, that he entirely shared them. 
 
 "Before morning," said he, "we shall all be butchered 
 and buried in Graden Floe. For me, that is written." 
 
 I could not help shuddering at the mention of the 
 quicksand, but reminded Northmour that our enemies 
 had spared me in the wood. 
 
 "Do not flatter yourself," said he. "Then you were 
 not in the same boat with the old gentleman; now you are. 
 It's the floe for all of us, mark my words." 
 
 I trembled for Clara; and just then her dear voice was 
 heard calling us to come up-stairs. Northmour showed 
 me the way, and, when he had reached the landing, 
 knocked at the door of what used to be called My Uncle's 
 Bedroom, as the founder of the pavilion had designed it 
 -especially for himself. 
 
 "Come in, Northmour; come in, dear Mr. Cassilis," 
 said a voice from within. 
 
226 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 Pushing open the door, Northmour admitted me before 
 him into the apartment. As I came in I could see the 
 daughter slipping out by the side door into the study, 
 which had been prepared as her bedroom. In the bed, 
 which was drawn back against the wall, instead of stand- 
 ing, as I had last seen it, boldly across the window, sat 
 Bernard Huddlestone, the defaulting banker. Little as I 
 had seen of him by the shifting light of the lantern on 
 the links, I had no difficulty in recognizing him for the 
 same. He had a long and sallow countenance, surrounded 
 by a long red beard and side-whiskers. His broken nose 
 and high cheek-bones gave him somewhat the air of a 
 Kalmuck, and his light eyes shone with the excitement of 
 a high fever. He wore a skull-cap of black silk; a huge 
 Bible lay open before him on the bed, with a pair of gold 
 spectacles in the place, and a pile of other books lay on 
 the stand by his side. The green curtains lent a cadaver- 
 ous shade to his cheek; and, as he sat propped on pillows, 
 his great stature was painfully hunched, and his head 
 protruded till it overhung his knees. I believe if he had 
 not died otherwise, he must have fallen a victim to con- 
 sumption in the course of but a very few weeks. 
 
 He held out to me a hand, long, thin, and disagreeably 
 hairy. 
 
 "Come in, come in, Mr. Cassilis," said he. "Another 
 protector — ahem! — another protector. Always welcome 
 as a friend of my daughter's, Mr. Cassilis. How they 
 have rallied about me, my daughter's friends! May God 
 in heaven bless and reward them for it!" 
 
 I gave him my hand, of course, because I could not 
 help it; but the sympathy I had been prepared to feel for 
 Clara's father was immediately soured by his appearance, 
 and the wheedling, unreal tones in which he spoke. 
 
 ' ' Cassilis is a good man, ' ' said Northmour ; ' 'worth ten. ' ' 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 227 
 
 "So I hear," cried Mr. Huddlestone eagerly; "so my 
 girl tells me. Ah, Mr. Cassilis, my sin has found me 
 out, you see! I am very low, very low; but I hope equally 
 penitent. We must all come to the throne of grace at 
 last, Mr. Cassilis. For my part, I come late indeed; but 
 with unfeigned humility, I trust." 
 
 "Fiddle-de-dee!" said Northmour roughly. 
 
 "No, no, dear Northmour!" cried the banker. "You 
 must not say that; you must not try to shake me. You 
 forget, my dear, good boy, you forget I may be called 
 this very night before my Maker." 
 
 His excitement was pitiful to behold; and I felt myself 
 grow indignant with Northmour, whose infidel opinions I 
 well knew, and heartily derided, as he continued to taunt 
 the poor sinner out of his humor of repentance. 
 
 "Pooh, my dear Huddlestone!" said he. "You do 
 yourself injustice. You are a man of the world inside and 
 out, and were up to all kinds of mischief before I was 
 born. Your conscience is tanned like South American 
 leather — only you forgot to tan your liver, and that, if 
 you will believe me, is the seat of the annoyance." 
 
 "Rogue, rogue! bad boy!" said Mr. Huddlestone, 
 shaking his finger. "I am no precisian, if you come to 
 that; I always hated a precisian; but I never lost hold of 
 something better through it all. I have been a bad boy, 
 Mr. Cassilis; I do not seek to deny that; but it was after 
 my wife's death, and you know, with a widower, it's a 
 different thing: Sinful — I won't say no, but there is a 
 gradation, we shall hope. And talking of that — Hark!" 
 he broke out suddenly, his hand raised, his fingers spread, 
 his face racked with interest and terror. "Only the 
 rain, bless God!" he added, after a pause, and with 
 indescribable relief. 
 
 For some seconds he lay back among the pillows like a 
 
228 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 man near to fainting; then he gathered himself together, 
 and, in somewhat tremulous tones, began once more to 
 thank me for the share I was prepared to take in his 
 defence. 
 
 "One question, sir," said I, when he had paused. "Is 
 it true that you have money with you?" 
 
 He seemed annoyed by the question, but admitted with 
 reluctance that he had a little. 
 
 "Well," I continued, "it is their money they are after, 
 is it not? Why not give it up to them?" 
 
 "Ah!" replied he, shaking his head, "I have tried that 
 already, Mr. Cassilis; and alas! that it should be so, but 
 it is blood they want." 
 
 "Huddlestone, that's a little less than fair," said 
 Northmour. "You should mention that what you offered 
 them was upwards of two hundred thousand short. The 
 deficit is worth a reference; it is for what they call a cool 
 sum, Frank. Then, you see, the fellows reason in their 
 clear Italian way; and it seems to them, as indeed it 
 seems to me, that they may just as well have both while 
 they are about it — money and blood together, by George, 
 and no more trouble for the extra pleasure." 
 
 "Is it in the pavilion?" I asked. 
 
 "It is; and I wish it was in the bottom of the sea in- 
 stead," said Northmour; and then suddenly — "What are 
 you making faces at me for?" he cried to Mr. Huddle- 
 stone, on whom I had unconsciously turned my back. "Do 
 you think Cassilis would sell you?" 
 
 Mr. Huddlestone protested that nothing had been fur- 
 ther from his mind. 
 
 "It is a good thing," retorted Northmour in his ugliest 
 manner. ' 'You might end by wearying us. What were 
 you going to say?" he added, turning to me. 
 
 "I was going to propose an occupation for the after- 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 229 
 
 noon," said I. "Let us carry that money out, piece by 
 piece, and lay it down before the pavilion door. If the 
 carbonari come, why, it's theirs at any rate. ' ' 
 
 "No, no," cried Mr. Huddlestone; "it does not, it can- 
 not belong to them! It should be distributed pro rata 
 among all my creditors. ' ' 
 
 "Come, now, Huddlestone," said Northmour, "none of 
 that." 
 
 "Well, but my daughter," moaned the wretched man. 
 
 "Your daughter will do well enough. Here are two 
 suitors, Cassilis and I, neither of us beggars, between 
 whom she has to choose. And as for yourself, to make an 
 end of arguments, you have no right to a farthing, and, 
 unless I'm much mistaken, you are going to die." 
 
 It was certainly very cruelly said; but Mr. Huddlestone 
 was. a man who attracted little sympathy; and, although 
 I saw him wince and shudder, I mentally endorsed the 
 rebuke; nay, I added a contribution of my own. 
 
 "Northmour and I," I said, "are willing enough to 
 help you to save your life, but not to escape with stolen 
 property." 
 
 He struggled for a while with himself, as though he 
 were on the point of giving way to anger, but prudence 
 had the best of the controversy. 
 
 "My dear boys," he said, "do with me or my money 
 what you will. I leave all in your hands. Let me com- 
 pose myself." 
 
 And so we left him, gladly enough I am sure. The last 
 that I saw, he had once more taken up his great Bible, 
 and with tremulous hands was adjusting his spectacles to 
 read. 
 
230 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 TELLS HOW A WORD WAS CRIED THROUGH THE PAVIUON 
 WINDOW 
 
 The recollection of that afternoon will always be graven 
 on my mind. Northmour and I were persuaded that an 
 attack was imminent; and if it had been in our power to 
 alter in any way the order of events, that power would 
 have been used to precipitate rather than delay the critical 
 moment. The worst was to be anticipated; yet we could 
 conceive no extremity so miserable as the suspense we 
 were now suffering. I have never been an eager, though 
 always a great, reader; but I never knew books so insipid 
 as those which I took up and cast aside that afternoon in 
 the pavilion. Even talk became impossible, as the hours 
 went on. One or other was always listening for some 
 sound, or peering from an up-stairs window over the 
 links. And yet not a sign indicated the presence of 
 our foes. 
 
 We debated over and over again my proposal with regard 
 to the money; and had we been in complete possession of 
 our faculties, I am sure we should have condemned it as 
 unwise; but we were flustered with alarm, grasped at a 
 straw, and determined, although it was as much as ad- 
 , vertising Mr. Huddlestone's presence in the pavilion, to 
 carry my proposal into effect. 
 
 The sum was part in specie, part in bank paper, and 
 part in circular notes, payable to the name of James 
 Gregory. We took it out, counted it, enclosed it once 
 more in a despatch-box belonging to Northmour, and pre- 
 pared a letter in Italian which he tied to the handle. It 
 was signed by both of us under oath, and declared that 
 this was all the money which had escaped the failure of 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 231 
 
 the house of Huddlestone. This was, perhaps, the mad- 
 dest action ever perpetrated by two persons professing to 
 be sane. Had the despatch-box fallen into other hands 
 than those for which it was intended, we stood criminally 
 convicted on our own written testimony; but, as I have 
 said, we were neither of us in a condition to judge so- 
 berly, and had a thirst for action that drove us to do some- 
 thing, right or wrong, rather than endure the agony of 
 waiting. Moreover, as we were both convinced that the 
 hollows of the links were alive with hidden spies upon 
 our movements, we hoped that our appearance with the 
 box might lead to a parley, and, perhaps, a compromise. 
 
 It was nearly three when we issued from the pavilion. 
 The rain had taken off; the sun shone quite cheerfully. I 
 have never seen the gulls fly so close about the house or 
 approach so fearlessly to human beings. On the very 
 doorstep one flapped heavily past our heads, and uttered 
 its wild cry in my very ear. 
 
 "There is an omen for you," said Northmour, who like 
 all freethinkers was much under the influence of supersti- 
 tion. "They think we are already dead." 
 
 I made some light rejoinder, but it was with half my 
 itseart; for the circumstance had impressed me. 
 
 A yard or two before the gate, on a patch of smooth 
 turf, we set down the despatch-box; and Northmour waved 
 a white handkerchief over his head. Nothing replied. 
 We raised our voices, and cried aloud in Italian that we 
 were there as ambassadors to arrange the quarrel; but 
 the stillness remained unbroken save by the sea-gulls and 
 the surf. I had a weight at my heart when we desisted"; 
 and I saw that even Northmour was unusually pale. He 
 looked over his shoulder nervously, as though he feared 
 that some one had crept between him and the pavilion 
 door. 
 
232 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "By God," he said in a whisper, "this is too much for 
 me!" 
 
 I replied in the same key: "Suppose there should be 
 none, after all!" 
 
 "Look there," he returned, nodding with his head, as 
 though he had been afraid to point. 
 
 I glanced in the direction indicated; and there, from 
 the northern comer of the Sea- Wood, beheld a thin column 
 of smoke rising steadily against the now cloudless sky. 
 
 "Northmour," I said (we still continued to talk in 
 whispers), "it is not possible to endure this suspense. I 
 prefer death fifty times over. Stay you here to watch the 
 pavilion; I will go forward and make sure, if I have to 
 walk right into their camp." 
 
 He looked once again all around him with puckered 
 eyes, and then nodded assentingly to my proposal. 
 
 My heart beat like a sledge-hammer as I set out walking 
 rapidly in the direction of the smoke; and though up to 
 that moment I had felt chill and shivering, I was suddenly 
 conscious of a glow of heat over all my body. The ground 
 in this direction was very uneven; a hundred men might 
 have lain hidden in as many square yards about my path. 
 But I had not practiced the business in vain, chose such 
 routes as cut at the very root of concealment, and, by 
 keeping along the most convenient ridges, commanded 
 several hollows at a time. It was not long before I was 
 rewarded for my caution. Coming suddenly on to a mound 
 somewhat more elevated than the surrounding hummocks 
 I saw, not thirty yards away, a man bent almost double, 
 and running as fast as his attitude permitted, along the 
 bottom of a gully. I had dislodged one of the spies from 
 his ambush. As soon as I sighted him, I called loudly both 
 in English and Italian; and he, seeing concealment was no 
 longer possible, straightened himself out. leaped from the 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 233 
 
 gully, and made off as straight as an arrow for the borders 
 of the wood. 
 
 It was none of my business to pursue; I had learned 
 what I wanted — ^that we were beleaguered and watched in 
 the pavilion; and I returned at once, and walking as 
 nearly as possible in my old footsteps, to where North- 
 mour awaited me beside the despatch-box. He was even 
 paler than when I had left him, and his voice shook a 
 little. 
 
 "Could you see what he was like?" he asked. 
 
 "He kept his back turned," I replied. 
 
 "Let us go into the house, Frank. I don't think I'm a 
 coward, but I can stand no more of this," he whispered. 
 
 All was still and sunshiny about the pavilion as we 
 turned to re-enter it; even the gulls had flown in a wider 
 circuit, and were seen flickering along the beach and 
 sand-hills; and this loneliness terrified me more than a 
 regiment under arms. It was not until the door was 
 barricaded that I could draw a full inspiration and relieve 
 the weight that lay upon my bosom. Northmour and I 
 exchanged a steady glance; and I suppose each made his 
 own reflections on the white and startled aspect of the 
 other. 
 
 "You were right," I said. "All is over. Shake hands, 
 old man, for the last time." 
 
 "Yes," replied he, "I will shake hands; for, as sure as 
 I am here, I bear no malice. But, remember, if, by some 
 impossible accident, we should give the slip to these 
 blackguards, I'll take the upper hand of you by fair or 
 foul." 
 
 "Oh," said I, "you weary me. " 
 
 He seemed hurt, and walked away in silence to the foot 
 of the stairs, where he paused. 
 
 "You do not understand me," said he, "I am not a 
 
234 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 swindler, and I guard myself; that is all. It may weary 
 you or not, Mr. Cassilis, I do not care a rush; I speak for 
 my own satisfaction, and not for your amusement. You 
 had better go up-stairs and court the girl, for my part, I 
 stay here." 
 
 "And I stay with you," I returned. "Do you think I 
 would steal a march, even with your permission?" 
 
 "Frank," he said, smiling, "it's a pity you are an ass, 
 for you have the makings of a man. I think I must be 
 fey to-day; you cannot irritate me, even when you try. 
 Do you know," he continued softly, "I think we are the 
 two most miserable men in England, you and I? we have 
 got on to thirty without wife or child, or so much as a 
 shop to look after — poor, pitiful, lost devils, both! And 
 now we clash about a girl! As if there were not several 
 millions in the United Kingdom! Ah, Frank, Frank, the 
 one who loses his throw, be it you or me, he has my pity! 
 It were better for him — ^how does the Bible say? — that a 
 millstone were hanged about his neck and he were cast 
 into the depth of the sea. Let us take a drink," he con- 
 cluded suddenly, but without any levity of tone. 
 
 I was touched by his words, and consented. He sat 
 down on the table in the dining-room, and held up the 
 glass of sherry to his eye. 
 
 "If you beat me, Frank," he said, "I shall take to 
 drink. What will you do, if it goes the other way?" 
 
 "God knows," I returned. 
 
 "Well," said he, "here is a toast in the meantime: 
 'Italia irredenta !' " 
 
 The remainder of the day was passed in the same dread- 
 ful tedium and suspense. I laid the table for dinner, 
 while Northmour and Clara prepared the meal together 
 in the kitchen. I could hear their talk as I went to and 
 fro, and was surprised to find it ran all the time upon 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 235 
 
 myself. Northmour again bracketed us together, and 
 rallied Clara on a choice of husbands; but he continued to 
 speak of me with some feeling, and uttered nothing to my 
 prejudice unless he included himself in the condemnation. 
 This awakened a sense of gratitude in my heart, which 
 combined with the immediaieness of our peril to fill my 
 eyes with tears. After all, I thought — and perhaps the 
 thought was laughably vain — we were here, three very 
 noble human beings, to perish in defense of a thieving 
 banker. 
 
 Before we sat down to table, I looked forth from an 
 up-stairs window. The day was beginning to decline; the 
 links were utterly deserted; the despatch-box still lay 
 untouched where we had left it hours before. 
 
 Mr. Huddlestone, in a long yellow dressing-gown, took 
 one end of the table, Clara the other; while Northmour 
 and I faced each other from the sides. The lamp was 
 brightly trimmed ; the wine was good ; the viands, although 
 mostly cold, excellent of their sort. We seemed to have 
 agreed tacitly; all reference to the impending catastrophe 
 was carefully avoided; and, considering our tragic cir- 
 cumstances, we made a merrier party than could have 
 been expected. From time to time, it is true, Northmour 
 or I would rise from the table and make a round of the 
 defences; and, on each of these occasions Mr. Huddlestone 
 was recalled to a sense of his tragic predicament, glanced 
 up with ghastly eyes, and bore for an instant on his coun- 
 tenance the stamp of terror. But he hastened to empty 
 his glass, wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, and 
 joined again in the conversation. 
 
 I was astonished at the wit and information he dis- 
 played. Mr. Huddlestone's was certainly no ordinary 
 character; he had read and observed for himself; his gifts 
 were sound; and, though I could never have learned to 
 
236 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 love the man, I began to understand his success in busi- 
 ness, and the great respect in which he had been held 
 before his failure. He had, above all, the talent of so- 
 ciety; and though I never heard him speak but on this 
 one and most unfavorable occasion, I set him down among 
 the most brilliant conversationalists I ever met. 
 
 He was relating with great gusto, and seemingly no ' 
 feeling of shame, the manoeuvres of a scoundrelly com- 
 mission merchant whom he had known and studied in his 
 youth, and we were all listening with an odd mixture of 
 mirth and embarrassment, when our little party was 
 brought abruptly to an end in the most startling manner. 
 
 A noise like that of a wet finger on the window-pane 
 interrupted Mr. Huddlestone's tale; and in an instant we 
 were all four as white as paper, and sat tongue-tied and 
 motionless round the table. 
 
 "A snail," I said at last; for I had heard that these 
 animals make a noise somewhat similar in character. 
 
 "Snail be d d!" said Northmour. "Hush!" 
 
 The same sound was repeated twice at regular inter- 
 vals; and then a formidable voice shouted through the 
 shutters the Italian word " Traditore!" 
 
 Mr. Huddlestone threw his head in the air; his eyelids 
 quivered; next moment befell insensible below the table. 
 Northmour and I had each run to the armory and seized 
 a gun. Clara was on her feet with her hand at her throat. 
 
 So we stood waiting, for we thought the hour of attack 
 was certainly come; but second passed after second, and 
 all but the surf remained silent in the neighborhood of 
 the pavilion. 
 
 "Quick," said Northmour; "up-stairs with him before 
 they come." 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 237 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 TELLS THE LAST OP THE TALL, MAN 
 
 Somehow or other, by hook and crook, and between the 
 three of us, we got Bernard Huddlestone bundled up-stairs 
 and laid upon the bed in My Uncle's Room. During the 
 whole process, which was rough enough, he gave no sign 
 of consciousness, and he remained, as we had thrown him, 
 without changing the position of a finger. His daughter 
 opened his shirt and began to wet his head and bosom; 
 while Northmour and I ran to the window. The weather 
 continued clear; the moon, which was now about full, had 
 risen and shed a very clear light upon the links; yet, strain 
 our eyes as we might, we could distinguish nothing mov- 
 ing. A few dark spots, more or less, on the uneven ex- 
 panse were not to be identified; they might be crouching 
 men, they might be shadows; it was impossible to be sure. 
 
 "Thank God," said Northmour, "Aggie is not coming 
 to-night." 
 
 Aggie was the name of the old nurse; he had not]thought 
 of her till now; but that he should think of her at all, was 
 a trait that surprised me in the man. 
 
 We were again reduced to waiting. Northmour went 
 to the fireplace and spread his hands before the red em- 
 bers, as if he were cold. I followed him mechanically 
 with my eyes, and in so doing turned my back upon the 
 window. At that moment a very faint report was audible 
 from without, and a ball shivered a pane of glass, and 
 buried itself in the shutter two inches from my head. I 
 heard Clara scream; and though I whipped instantly out 
 of range and into a corner, she was there, so to speak, 
 before me, beseeching to know if I were hurt. I felt that 
 I could stand to be shot at every day and all day long, with 
 
238 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 such marks of solicitude for a reward; and I continued to 
 reassure her, with the tenderest caresses and in complete 
 forgetfulness of our situation, till the voice of Northmour 
 recalled me to myself. 
 
 ' 'An air-gun, ' ' he said. ' "They wish to make no noise. ' ' 
 
 I put Clara aside, and looked at him. He was standing 
 with his back to the fire and his hands clasped behind him; 
 and I knew by the black look on his face, that passion was 
 boiling within. I had seen just such a look before he 
 attacked me, that March night, in the adjoining chamber; 
 and, though I could make every allowance for his anger, I 
 confess I trembled for the consequences. He gazed straight 
 before him; but he could see us with the tail of his eye, 
 and his temper kept rising like a gale of wind. With 
 regular battle awaiting us outside, this prospect of an 
 internecine strife within the walls began to daunt me. 
 
 Suddenly, as I was thus closely watching his expression 
 and prepared against the worst, I saw a change, a flash, a 
 look of relief, upon his face. He took up the lamp which 
 stood beside him on the table, and turned to us with an 
 air of some excitement. 
 
 "There is one point that we must know," said he. 
 "Are they going to butcher the lot of us, or only Huddle- 
 stone? Did they take you for him, or fire at you for your 
 own beaux yeaux ? " 
 
 "They took me for him, for certain," I replied. "I 
 am near as tall, and my head is fair." 
 
 "I am going to make sure," returned Northmour; and 
 he stepped up to the window, holding the lamp above his 
 head, and stood there, quietly affronting death, for half a 
 minute. 
 
 Clara sought to rush forward and pull him from the 
 place of danger; but I had the pardonable selfishness to 
 hold her back by force. 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 239 
 
 "Yes," said Northmour, turning coolly from the win- 
 dow; "it's only Huddlestone they want." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Northmour!" cried Clara; but found no more 
 to add; the temerity she had just witnessed seeming 
 beyond the reach of words. 
 
 He, on his part, looked at me, cocking his head, with a 
 fire of triumph in his eyes; and I understood at once that 
 he had thus hazarded his life, merely to attract Clara's 
 notice, and depose me from my position as the hero of 
 the hour. He snapped his fingers. 
 
 "The fire is only beginning, " he said. "When they 
 warm up to their work, they won't be so particular." 
 
 A voice was now heard hailing us from the entrance. 
 From the window we could see the figure of a man in the 
 moonlight; he stood motionless, his face uplifted to ours, 
 and a rag of something white on his extended arm; and 
 as we looked right down upon him, though he was a good 
 many yards distant on the links, we could see the moon- 
 light glitter on his eyes. 
 
 He opened his lips again, and spoke for some minutes 
 on end, in a key so loud that he might have been heard 
 in every corner of the pavilion, and as far away as the 
 borders of the wood. It was the same voice that had 
 already shouted "Traditore!" through the shutters of the 
 dining-room; this time it made a complete and clear 
 statement. If the traitor "Oddlestone" were given up, 
 all others should be spared; if not, no one should escape 
 to tell the tale. 
 
 "Well„ Huddlestone, what do you say to that?" asked 
 Northmour, turning to the bed. 
 
 Up to that moment the banker had given no sign of 
 life, and I, at least, had supposed him to be still lying in 
 a faint; but he replied at once, and in such tones as I 
 have never heard elsewhere, save from a delirious patient. 
 
240 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 adjured and besought us not to desert him. It was the 
 most hideous and abject performance that my imagination 
 can conceive. 
 
 "Enough," cried Northmour; and then he threw open 
 the window, leaned out into the night, and in a tone of 
 exultation, and with a total f orgetfulness of what was due 
 to the presence of a lady, poured out upon the ambassador 
 a string of the most abominable raillery both in English 
 and Italian, and bade him be gone where he had come 
 from. I believe that nothing so delighted Northmour at 
 that moment as the thought that we must all infallibly 
 perish before the night was out. 
 
 Meantime the Italian put his flag of truce into his 
 pocket, and disappeared, at a leisurely pace, among the 
 sand-hills. 
 
 "They make honorable war," said Northmour. "They 
 are all gentlemen and soldiers. For the credit of the 
 thing, I wish we could change sides — you and I, Frank, 
 and you too. Missy my darling — and leave that being on 
 the bed to some one else. Tut! Don't look shocked! We 
 are all going post to what they call eternity, and may as 
 well be above-board while there's time. As far as I'm 
 concerned, if I could first strangle Huddlestone and then 
 get Clara in my arms, I could die with some pride and 
 satisfaction. And as it is, by God, I'll have a kiss!" 
 
 Before I could do anything to interfere, he had rudely 
 embraced and repeatedly kissed the resisting girl. Next 
 moment I had pulled him away with fury, and flung him 
 heavily against the wall. He laughed loud and long, and 
 I feared his wits had given way under the strain; for even 
 in the best of days he had been a sparing and a quiet 
 laugher. 
 
 ' 'Now, Frank, ' ' said he when his mirth was somewhat 
 appeased, "it's your turn. Here's my hand. Good-bye; 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 241 
 
 fa'-ewell!" Then, seeing me stand rigid and indignant, 
 and holding Clara to my side — "Man!" he broke out, 
 "are you angry? Did you think we were going to die 
 with all the airs and graces of society? I took a kiss; I'm 
 glad I had it; and now you can take another if you like, 
 and square accounts." 
 
 I turned from him with a feeling of contempt which I 
 did not seek to dissemble. 
 
 "As you please," said he. "You've been a prig in 
 life; a prig you'll die." 
 
 And with that he sat down in a chair, a rifle over the 
 knee, and amused himself with snapping the lock; but I 
 could see that his ebullition of light spirits (the only one 
 I ever knew him to display) had already come to an end, 
 and was succeeded by a sullen, scowling humor. 
 
 All this time our assailants might have been entering 
 the house, and we been none the wiser; we had in truth 
 almost forgotten the danger that so imminently overhung 
 our days. But just then Mr. Huddlestone uttered a cry, 
 and leaped from the bed. 
 
 I asked him what was wrong. 
 
 "Fire!" he cried. "They have set the house on fire!" 
 
 Northmour was on his feet in an instant, and he and I 
 ran through the door of communication with the study. 
 The room was illuminated by a red and angry light. 
 Almost at the moment of our entrance, a tower of flame 
 arose in front of the window, and, with a tingling report, 
 a pane fell inwards on the carpet. They had set fire to 
 the lean-to outhouse, where Northmour used to nurse 
 his negatives. 
 
 "Hot work," said Northmour. "Let us try in your 
 old room." 
 
 We ran thither in a breath, threw up the casement, and 
 looked forth. Along the whole back wall of the pavilion 
 
242 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 piles of fuel had been arranged and kindled; and it is 
 probable they had been drenched with mineral oil, for, in 
 spite of the morning's rain, they all burned bravely. The 
 fire had taken a firm hold already on the outhouse, which 
 blazed higher and higher every moment; the back door 
 was in the centre of a red-hot bonfire; the eaves we could 
 see, as we looked upward, were already smouldering, for 
 the roof overhung, and was supported by considerable 
 beams of wood. At the same time, hot, pungent, and 
 choking volumes of smoke began to fill the house. There 
 was not a human being to be seen to right or left. 
 
 "Ah, well!" said Northmour, "here's the end, thank 
 God." 
 
 And we returned to My Uncle's Room. Mr. Huddle- 
 stone was putting on his boots, still violently trembling, 
 but with an air of determination such as I had not hitherto 
 observed. Clara stood close by him, with her cloak in 
 both hands ready to throw about her shoulders, and a 
 strange look in her eyes, as if she were half hopeful, half 
 doubtful of her father. 
 
 "Well, boys and girls," said Northmour, "how about 
 a sally? The oven is heating; it is not good to stay here 
 and be baked ; and, for my part, I want to come to my 
 hands with them, and be done. ' ' 
 
 "There is nothing else left," I replied. 
 
 And both Clara and Mr. Huddlestone, though with a 
 very different intonation, added, "Nothing." 
 
 As we went down-stairs the heat was excessive, and the 
 roaring of the fire filled our ears; and we had scarce 
 reached the passage before the stairs window fell in, a 
 branch of flame shot brandishing through the aperture, 
 and the interior of the pavilion became lit up with that 
 dreadful and fluctuating glare. At the same moment we 
 heard the fall of something heavy and inelastic in the 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 243 
 
 upper story. The whole pavilion, it was plain, had gone 
 alight like a box of matches, and now not only flamed 
 sky-high to land and sea, but threatened with every 
 moment to crumble and fall in about our ears. 
 
 Northmour and I cocked our revolvers. Mr. Huddle- 
 stone, who had already refused a firearm, put us behind 
 him with a manner of command. 
 
 "Let Clara open the door," said he. "So, if they fire 
 a volley, she will be protected. And in the meantime 
 stand behind me. I am the scapegoat; my sins have found 
 me out." 
 
 I heard him, as I stood breathless by his shoulder, with 
 my pistol ready, pattering off prayers in a tremulous, 
 rapid whisper; and I confess, horrid as the thought may 
 seem, I despised him for thinking of supplications in a 
 moment so critical and thrilling. In the meantime, Clara, 
 who was dead white but still possessed her faculties, had 
 displaced the barricade from the front door. Another 
 moment, and shf had pulled it open. Firelight and moon- 
 light illuminated the links with confused and changeful 
 lustre, and far away against the sky we could see a long 
 trail of glowing smoke. 
 
 Mr. Huddlestone, filled for the moment with a strength 
 greater than his own, struck Northmour and myself a 
 back-hander in the chest; and while' we were thus for the 
 moment incapacitated from action, lifting his arms above 
 his head like one about to dive, he ran straight forward 
 out of the pavilion. 
 
 "Here am I!" he cried — "Huddlestone! Kill me, and 
 spare the others!" 
 
 His sudden appearance daunted, I suppose. Our hidden 
 enemies; for Northmour and I had time to recover, to 
 seize Clara between us, one by each arm, and to rush forth 
 to his assistance, ere anything further had taken place. 
 
244 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 But scarce had we passed the threshold when there came 
 near a dozen reports and flashes from every direction 
 among the hollows of the links. Mr. Huddlestone stag- 
 gered, uttered a weird and freezing cry, threw up his 
 arms over his head, and fell backward on the turf. 
 
 "Traditore! Traditore!" cried the invisible avengers. 
 
 And just then, a part of the roof of the pavilion fell 
 in, so rapid was the progress of the fire. A loud, vague, 
 and horrible noise accompanied the collapse, and a vast 
 volume of flame went soaring up to heaven. It must have 
 been visible at that moment from twenty miles out at 
 sea, from the shore at Graden Wester, and far inland 
 from the peak of Graystiel, the most eastern summit of 
 the Caulder Hills. Bernard Huddlestone, although God 
 knows what were his obsequies, had a fine pyre at the 
 moment of his death. 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 TELLS HOW NORTHMOUR CARRIED OUT HIS THREAT 
 
 I should have the greatest diflSculty to tell you what 
 followed next after this tragic circumstance. It is all to 
 me, as I look back upon it, mixed, strenuous, and ineffec- 
 tual, like the struggles of a sleeper in a nightmare. 
 Clara, I remember, uttered a broken sigh and would have 
 fallen forward to earth, had not Northmour and I sup- 
 ported her insensible body. I do not think we were 
 attacked; I do not remember even to have seen an assail- 
 ant; and I believe we deserted Mr. Huddlestone without 
 a glance. I only remember running like a man in a 
 panic, now carrying Clara altogether in my own arms, 
 now sharing her weight with Northmour, now scuffling 
 confusedly for the possession of that dear burden. Why 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 245 
 
 we should have made for my camp in the Hemlock Den, 
 or how we reached it, are points lost forever to my recol- 
 lection. The first moment at which I became definitely 
 sure, Clara had been suffered to fall against the outside 
 of my little tent, Northmour and I were tumbling to- 
 gether on the ground, and he, with contained ferocity, 
 was striking for my head with the butt of his revolver. 
 He had already twice wounded me on the scalp; and it is 
 to the consequent loss of blood that I am tempted to 
 attribute the sudden clearness of my mind. 
 
 I caught him by the wrist. 
 
 "Northmour," I remember saying, "you can kill me 
 afterwards. Let us first attend to Clara." 
 
 He was at that moment uppermost. Scarcely had the 
 words passed my lips, when he had leaped to his feet and 
 ran towards the tent; and the next moment, he was strain- 
 ing Clara to his heart and covering her unconscious hands 
 and face with his caresses. 
 
 "Shame!" I cried. "Shame to you, Northmour!" 
 
 And, giddy though I still was, I struck him repeatedly 
 upon the head and shoulders. 
 
 He relinquished his grasp, and faced me in the broken 
 moonlight. 
 
 "I had you under, and let you go," said he; "and now 
 you strike me! Coward!" 
 
 "You are the coward," I retorted. "Did she wish 
 your kisses while she was still sensible of what she wanted? 
 Not she! And now she may be dying; and you waste this 
 precious time, and abuse her helplessness. Stand aside, 
 and let me help her." 
 
 He confronted me for a moment, white and menacing; 
 then suddenly he stepped aside. 
 
 "Help her then," said he, 
 
 I threw myself on my knees beside her, and loosened, 
 
246 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 as well as I was able, her dress and corset; but while I 
 was thus engaged, a grasp descended on my shoulder. 
 
 "Keep your hands off her," said Northmour fiercely. 
 "Do you think I have no blood in my veins?" 
 
 "Northmour," I cried, "if you will neither help her 
 yourself, nor let me do so, do you know that I shall have 
 to kill you?" 
 
 "That is better!" he cried. "Let her die also, where's ' 
 the harm? Step aside from that girl! and stand up to 
 fight." 
 
 "You will observe," said I, half -rising, "that I have 
 not kissed her yet." 
 
 "I dare you to," he cried. 
 
 I do not know what possessed me; it was one of the 
 things I am most ashamed of in my life, though, as my 
 wife used to say, I knew that my kisses would be always 
 welcome were she dead or living; down I fell again upon 
 my knees, parted the hair from her forehead, and, with 
 the dearest respect, laid my lips for a moment on that 
 cold brow. It was such a caress as a father might have 
 given; it was such a one as was not unbecoming from a 
 man soon to die to a woman already dead. 
 
 "And now," said I, "I am at your service, Mr. North- 
 mour." 
 
 But I saw, to my surprise, that he had turned his back 
 upon me. 
 
 "Do you hear?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes," said he, "I do. If you wish to fight, I am 
 ready. If not, go on and save Clara. All is one to 
 me." 
 
 I did not wait to be twice bidden; but, stooping again 
 over Clara, continued my efforts to revive her. She still 
 lay white and lifeless; I began to fear that her sweet 
 spirit had indeed fled beyond recall, and horror and a 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 247 
 
 sense of utter desolation seized upon my heart. I called 
 her by name with the most endearing inflections; I chafed 
 and beat her hands; now I laid her head low, now sup- 
 ported it against my knee; but all seemed to be in vain, 
 and the lids still lay heavy on her eyes. 
 
 "Northmour," I said, "there is my hat. For God's 
 sake bring some water from the spring." 
 
 Almost in a moment he was by my side with the water. 
 
 "I have brought it in my own," he said. "You do not 
 grudge me the privilege?" 
 
 "Northmour," I was beginning to say, as I laved her 
 head and breast; but he interrupted me savagely. 
 
 "Oh, you hush up!" he said. "The best thing you can 
 do is to say nothing. ' ' 
 
 I had certainly no desire to talk, my mind being swal- 
 lowed up in concern for my dear love and her condition; 
 so I continued in silence to do my best towards her 
 recovery, and, when the hat was empty, returned it to 
 him, with one word — "More." He had, perhaps, gone 
 several times upon this errand, when Clara reopened her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Now," said he, "since she is better, you can spare me, 
 can you not? I wish you a good night, Mr. Cassilis. ' ' 
 
 And with that he was gone among the thicket. I made 
 a fire, for I had now no fear of the Italians, who had 
 even spared all the little possessions left in my encamp- 
 ment; and, broken as she was by the excitement and the 
 hideous catastrophe of the evening, I managed, in one 
 way or another — ^by persuasion, encouragement, warmth, 
 and such simple remedies as I could lay my hand on — to 
 bring her back to some composure of mind and strength 
 of body. 
 
 Day had already come, when a sharp "Hist!" sounded 
 from the thicket. I started from the ground; but the 
 
248 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 voice of Northmour was heard adding, in the most tran- 
 quil tones: "Come here, Cassilis, and alone; I want to 
 show you something." 
 
 I consulted Clara with my eyes, and, receiving her tacit 
 permission, left her alone, and clambered out of the den. 
 At some distance off I saw Northmour leaning against an 
 elder; and, as soon as he perceived me, he began walking 
 seaward. I had almost overtaken him as he reached the 
 outskirts of the wood. 
 
 "Look," said he, pausing. 
 
 A couple of steps more brought me out of the foliage. 
 The light of the morning lay cold and clear over that 
 well-known scene. The pavilion was but a blackened 
 wreck; the roof had fallen in, one of the gables had fallen 
 out; and, far and near, the face of the links was cica- 
 trized with little patches of burnt furze. Thick smoke 
 still went straight upwards in the windless air of the 
 morning, and a great pile of ardent cinders filled the bare 
 walls of the house, like coals in an open grate. Close by 
 the islet a schooner yacht lay to, and a well-manned boat 
 was pulling vigorously for the shore. 
 
 "The Red Earl!" I cried. "The Red Earl twelve 
 hours too late!" 
 
 "Feel in your pocket, Frank. Are you armed?" asked 
 Northmour. 
 
 I obeyed him, and I think I must have become deadly 
 pale. My revolver had been taken from me. 
 
 "You see I have you in my power," he continued. "I 
 disarmed you last night while you were nursing Clara; 
 but this morning — here — take your pistol. No thanks!" 
 he cried, holding up his hand. "I do not like them; that 
 is the only way you can annoy me now. ' ' 
 
 He began to walk forward across the links to meet the 
 boat, and I followed a step or two behind. In front of 
 
THE PAVILION ON THE LINKS 249 
 
 the pavilion I paused to see where Mr. Huddlestone had 
 fallen; but there was no sign of him, nor so much as a 
 trace of blood. 
 
 "Graden Floe," said Northmour. 
 
 He continued to advance till we had come to the head 
 of the beach. 
 
 "No farther, please," said he. "Would you like to 
 take her to Graden House?" 
 
 "Thank you," replied I; "I shall try to get her to the 
 minister's at Graden Wester." 
 
 The prow of the boat here grated on the beach, and a 
 sailor jumped ashore with a line in his hand. 
 
 "Wait a minute, lads!" cried Northmour; and then 
 lower and to my private ear: "You had better say nothing 
 of all this to her, ' ' he added. 
 
 "On the contrary!" I broke out, "she shall know 
 everything that I can tell. ' ' 
 
 "You do not understand," he returned, with an air of 
 great dignity. "It will be nothing to her; she expects it 
 of me. Good-bye!" he added, with a nod. 
 
 I offered him my hand. 
 
 "Excuse me," said he. "It's small, I know; but I 
 can't push things quite so far as that, I don't wish 
 any sentimental business, to sit by your hearth a white- 
 haired wanderer, and all that. Quite the contrary: I 
 hope to God I shall never again clap eyes on either one 
 of you. ' ' 
 
 "Well, God bless you, Northmour!" I said heartily. 
 
 "Oh, yes," he returned. 
 
 He walked down the beach; and the man who was ashore 
 gave him an arm on board, and then shoved off and leaped 
 into the bows himself. Northmour took the tiller; the 
 boat rose to the waves, and the oars between the thole- 
 pins sounded crisp and measured in the air. 
 
250 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 They were not yet half way to the Red Earl, and I was 
 still watching their progress, when the sun rose out of 
 the sea. ' 
 
 One word more, and my story is done. Years after, 
 Northmour was killed fighting under the colors of Gari- 
 baldi for the liberation of Tyrol. 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 
 
 A STORY OF FRANCIS VILLON 
 
 It was late in November, 1456. The snow fell over 
 Paris with rigorous, relentless persistence; sometimes the 
 wind made a sally and scattered it in flying vortices; 
 sometimes there was a lull, and flake after flake descended 
 out of 'the black night air, silent, circuitous, intermina- 
 ble. To poor people, looking up under moist eyebrows, 
 it seemed a wonder where it all came from. Master 
 Francis Villon had propounded an alternative that after- 
 noon, at a tavern window: was it only Pagan Jupiter 
 plucking geese upon Olympus? or were the holy angels 
 moulting? He was only a poor Master of Arts, he went 
 on; and as the question somewhat touched upon divinity, 
 he durst not venture to conclude. A silly old priest from 
 Montargis, who was among the company, treated the 
 young rascal to a bottle of wine in honor of the jest and 
 grimaces with which it was accompanied, and swore on 
 his own white beard that he had been just such another 
 irreverent dog when he was Villon's age. 
 
 The air was raw and pointed, but not far below freez- 
 ing; and the flakes were large, damp, and adhesive. The 
 whole city was sheeted up. An army might have marched 
 from end to end and not a footfall given the alarm. If 
 there were any belated birds in heaven, they saw the 
 island like a large white patch, and the bridges like slim 
 white spars, on the black ground of the river. High up 
 overhead the snow settled among the tracery of the 
 
252 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 cathedral towers. Many a niche was drifted full; many a 
 statue wore a long white bonnet on its grotesque or sainted 
 head. The gargoyles had beeq transformed into great 
 false noses, drooping towards the 'point. The crockets 
 were like upright pillows swollen on one side. In the 
 intervals of the wind, there was a dull sound of dripping 
 about the precincts of the church. 
 
 The cemetery of St. John had taken its own share of 
 the snow. All the graves were decently covered; tall 
 white housetops stood around in grave array; worthy 
 burghers were long ago in bed, be-nightcapped like their 
 domiciles; there was no light in all the neighborhood but 
 a little peep from a lamp that hung swinging in the 
 church choir, and tossed the shadows to and fro in time 
 to its oscillations. The clock was hard on ten when the 
 patrol went by with halberds and a lantern, beating their 
 hands; and they saw nothing suspicious about the ceme- 
 tery of St. John. 
 
 Yet there was a small house, backed up against the 
 cemetery wall, which was still awake, and awake to evil 
 purpose, in that snoring district. There was not much to 
 betray it from without; only a stream of warm vapor 
 from the chimney-top, a patch where the snow melted on 
 the roof, and a few half-obliterated footprints at the door. 
 But within, behind the shuttered windows. Master Francis 
 Villon the poet, and some of the thievish crew with whom 
 he consorted, were keeping the night alive and passing 
 round the bottle. 
 
 A great pile of living embers diffused a strong and 
 ruddy glow from the arched chimney. Before this strad- 
 dled Dom Nicolas, the Picardy monk, with his skirts 
 picked up and his fat legs bared to the comfortable 
 warmth. His dilated shadow cut the room in half; and 
 the firelight only escaped on either side of his broad per- 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 253 
 
 son, and in a little pool between his outspread feet. His 
 face had the beery, bruised appearance of the continual 
 drinker's; it was covered with a network of congested 
 veins, purple in ordinary circumstances, but now pale 
 violet, for even with his back to the fire the cold pinched 
 him on the other side. His cowl had half fallen back, and 
 made a strange excrescence on either side of his bull 
 neck. So he straddled, grumbling, and cut the room in 
 half with the shadow of his portly frame. 
 
 On the right, Villon and Guy Tabary were huddled 
 together over a scrap of parchment; Villon making a 
 ballade which he was to call the "Ballade of Roast Fish," 
 and Tabary spluttering admiration at his shoulder. The 
 poet was a rag of a man, dark, little, and lean, with 
 hollow cheeks and thin black locks. He carried his four- 
 and-twenty years with feverish animation. Greed had 
 made folds about his eyes, evil smiles had puckered his 
 mouth. The wolf and pig struggled together in his face. 
 It was an eloquent, sharp, ugly, earthly countenance. His 
 hands were small and prehensile, with fingers knotted like 
 a cord; and they were continually flickering in front of 
 him in violent and expressive pantomime. As for Tabary, 
 a broad, complacent, admiring imbecility breathed from 
 his squash nose and slobbering lips: he had become a 
 thief, just as he might have become the most decent of 
 burgesses, by the imperious chance that rules the lives of 
 human geese and human donkeys. 
 
 At the monk's other hand, Montigny and Thevenin 
 Pensete played a game of chance. About the first there 
 clung some flavor of good birth and training, as about a 
 fallen angel; something long, lithe, and courtly in the 
 person; something aquiline and darkling in the face. 
 Thevenin, poor soul, was in great feather: he had done a 
 good stroke of knavery that afternoon in the Faubourg 
 
254 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 St. Jacques, and all night he had been gaining from Mon- 
 tigny. A flat smile illuminated his face; his bald head 
 shone rosily in a garland of red curls; his little protu- 
 berant stomach shook with silent chucklings as he swept 
 in his gains. 
 
 "Doubles or quits?" said Thevenin. 
 
 Montigny nodded grimly. 
 
 ' 'Some may prefer to dine in state," wrote Villon, "On 
 bread and cheese on silver plate. Or, or — help me out, 
 Guido!" 
 
 Tabary giggled. 
 
 "Or parsley on a golden dish," scribbled the poet. 
 
 The wind was freshening without; it drove the snow 
 before it, and sometimes raised its voice in a victorious 
 whoop, and made sepulchral grumblings in the chimney. 
 The cold was growing sharper as the night went on. 
 Villon, protruding his lips, imitated the gust with some- 
 thing between a whistle and a groan. It was an eerie, 
 uncomfortable talent of the poets, much detested by the 
 Picardy monk. 
 
 "Can't you hear it rattle in the gibbet?" said Villon. 
 "They are all dancing the devil's jig on nothing, up 
 there. You may dance, my gallants, you'll be none the 
 warmer! Whew! what a gust! Down went somebody 
 just now! A medlar the fewer on the three-legged 
 medlar-tree! — I say, Dom Nicholas, it'll be cold to-night 
 on the St. Denis Road?" he asked. 
 
 Dom Nicolas winked both his big eyes, and seemed to 
 choke upon his Adam's apple. Montfaucon, the great 
 grisly Paris gibbet, stood hard by the St. Denis Road, 
 and the pleasantry touched him on the raw. As for 
 Tabary, he laughed immoderately over the medlars; he 
 had never heard anything more light-hearted; and beheld 
 his sides and crowed. Villon fetched him a fillip on 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 255 
 
 the nose, which turned his mirth into an attack of 
 coughing. 
 
 "Oh, stop that row," said Villon, "and think of rhymes 
 to 'fish.' " 
 
 "Doubles or quits." said Montigny doggedly. 
 ' 'With all my heart, ' ' quoth Thevenin. 
 "Is there any more in that bottle?" asked the monk, 
 "Open another," said Villon. "How do you ever hope 
 to fill that big hogshead, your body, with little things 
 like bottles? And how do you expect to get to heaven? 
 How many angels, do you fancy, can be spared to carry up 
 a single monk from Picardy? Or do you think yourself 
 another Elias — and they'll send the coach for you?" 
 
 ' 'Hominibus impossibile, ' ' replied the monk as he filled 
 his glass. 
 
 Tabary was in ecstasies. 
 Villon filliped his nose again. 
 "Laugh at my jokes, if you like," he said. 
 "It was very good," objected Tabary. 
 Villon made a face at him. "Think of rhymes to 
 'fish,' " he said. "What have you to do with Latin? 
 You'll wish you knew none of it at the great assizes, 
 when the devil calls for Guido Tabary, clericus — the devil 
 with the hump-back and red-hot finger-nails. Talking of 
 the devil," he added in a whisper, "look at Montigny!" 
 All three peefed covertly at the gamester. He did not 
 seem to be enjoying his luck. His mouth was a little to 
 a side; one nostril nearly shut, and the other much in- 
 flated. The black dog was on his back, as people say, in 
 terrifying nursery metaphor; and he breathed hard under 
 the gruesome burden. 
 
 "He looks as if he could knife him," whispered Ta- 
 bary, with round eyes. 
 
 The monk shuddered, and turned his face and spread 
 
{56 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 his open hands to the red embers. It was the cold that 
 thus affected Dom Nicolas, and not any excess of moral 
 sensibility. 
 
 "Come now," said Villon-^-" about this ballade. How 
 does it run so far?" And beating time with his hand, he 
 read it aloud to Tabary. 
 
 They were interrupted at the fourth rhyme by a brief 
 and fatal movement among the gamesters. The round 
 was completed, and Thevenin was just opening his mouth 
 to claim another victory, when Montigny leaped up, swift 
 as an adder, and stabbed him to the heart. The blow 
 took effect before he had time to utter a cry, before he 
 had time to move. A tremor or two convulsed his frame; 
 his hands opened and shut, his heels rattled on the floor; 
 then his head rolled backward over one shoulder with the 
 eyes wide open, and Thevenin Pensete's spirit had returned 
 to Him who made it. 
 
 Everyone sprang to his feet; but the business was over 
 in two twos. The four living fellows looked at each other 
 in rather a ghastly fashion; the dead man contemplating 
 a corner of the roof with a singular and ugly leer. 
 
 "My God!" said Tabary; and he began to pray in Latin. 
 
 Villon broke out into hysterical laughter. He came a 
 step forward and ducked a ridiculous bow at Thevenin, 
 and laughed still louder. Then he sat down suddenly, all 
 of a heap, upon a stool, and continued laughing bitterly 
 as though he would shake himself to pieces. 
 
 Montigny recovered his composure first. 
 
 "Let's see what he has about him," he remarked, and 
 he picked the dead man's pockets with a practiced hand, 
 and divided the money into four equal portions on the 
 table. "There's for you," he said. 
 
 The monk received his share with a deep sigh, and a 
 single stealthy glance at the dead Thevenin, who was 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 257 
 
 beginning to sink into himself and topple sideways off 
 the chair. 
 
 "We're all in for it," cried Villon, swallowing his 
 mirth. "It's a hanging job for every man jack of us 
 that's here — not to speak of those who aren't." He 
 made a shocking gesture in the air with his raised right 
 hand, and put out his tongue and threw his head on one 
 side, so as to counterfeit the appearance of one who has 
 been hanged. Then he pocketed his share of the spoil, 
 and executed a shuffle with his feet as if to restore the 
 circulation. 
 
 Tabary was the last to help himself; he made a dash at 
 the money, and retired to the other end of the apartment. 
 
 Montigny stuck Thevenin upright in the chair, and drew 
 out the dagger, which was followed by a jet of blood. 
 
 "You fellows had better be moving," he said, as he 
 wiped the blade on his victim's doublet. 
 
 "I think we had," returned Villon, with a gulp. 
 "Damn his fat head!" he broke out. "It sticks in my 
 throat like phlegm. What right has a man to have red 
 hair when he is dead?" And he fell all of a heap again 
 upon the stool, and fairly covered his face with his hands. 
 
 Montigny and Dom Nicholas laughed aloud, even Tabary 
 feebly chiming in. 
 
 "Cry baby," said the monk. 
 
 "I always said he was a woman," added Montigny, 
 with a sneer. "Sit up, can't you?" he went on, giving 
 another shake to the murdered body. "Tread out that 
 fire, Nick!" 
 
 But Nick was better employed ; he was quietly taking 
 Villon's purse, as the poet sat, limp and trembling, on 
 the stool where he had been making a ballade not three 
 minutes before. Montigny and Tabary dumbly demanded 
 a share of the booty, which the monk silently promised as 
 
258 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 he passed the little bag into the bosom of his gown. In 
 many ways an artistic nature unfits a man for practical 
 existence. 
 
 No sooner had the theft been accomplished than Villon 
 shook himself, jumped to his feet, and began helping to 
 scatter and extinguish the embers. Meanwhile Montigny 
 opened the door and cautiously peered into the street. 
 The coast was clear; there was no meddlesome patrol in 
 sight. Still it was judged wiser to slip out severally; 
 and as Villon was himself in a hurry to escape from the 
 neighborhood of the dead Thevenin, and the rest were in 
 a still greater hurry to get rid of him before he should 
 discover the loss of his money, he was the first by general 
 consent to issue forth into the street. 
 
 The wind had triumphed and swept all the clouds from 
 heaven. Only a few vapors, as thin as moonlight, fleeted 
 rapidly across the stars. It was bitter cold; and by a 
 common optical effect, things seemed almost more definite 
 than in the broadest daylight. The sleeping city was 
 absolutely still; a company of white hoods, a field full of 
 little alps, below the twinkling stars. Villon cursed his 
 fortune. Would it were still snowing! Now, wherever 
 he went, he left an indelible trail behind him on the 
 glittering streets; wherever he went he was still tethered 
 to the house by the cemetery of St. John; wherever he 
 went he must weave, with his own plodding feet, the rope 
 that bound him to the crime and would bind him to the 
 gallows. The leer of the dead man came back to him with 
 a new significance. He snapped his fingers as if to pluck 
 up his own spirits, and choosing a street at random, 
 stepped boldly forward in the snow. 
 
 Two tilings preoccupied him as he went; the aspect of 
 the gallaws at Montfaucon in this bright, windy phase of 
 Ihe night's existence, for one; and ^or another, the look 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 259 
 
 of the dead man with his bald head and garland of red 
 curls. Both struck cold upon his heart, and he kept 
 quickening his pace as if he could escape from unpleasant 
 thoughts by mere fleetness of foot. Sometimes he looked 
 back over his shoulder with a sudden nervous jerk; but 
 he was the only moving thing in the white streets, except 
 when the wind swooped round a corner and threw up the 
 snow, which was beginning to freeze, in spouts of glit- 
 tering dust. 
 
 Suddenly he saw, a long way before him, a black clump 
 and a couple of lanterns. The clump was in motion, and 
 the lanterns swung as though carried by men walking. 
 It was a patrol. And though it was merely crossing his 
 line of march he judged it wiser to get out of eyeshot as 
 speedily as he could. He was not in the humor to be 
 challenged, and he was conscious of making a very con- 
 spicuous mark upon the snow. Just on his left hand there 
 stood a great hotel, with some turrets and a large porch 
 before the door; it was half -ruinous, he remembered, and 
 had long stood empty; and so he made three steps of it, 
 and jumped into the shelter of the porch. It was pretty 
 dark inside, after the glimmer of the snowy streets, and 
 he was groping forward with outspread hands, when he 
 stumbled over some substance which offered an indescri- 
 bable mixture of resistances, hard and soft, firm and loose. 
 His heart gave a leap, and he sprang two steps back and 
 stared dreadfully at the obstacle. Then he gave a little 
 laugh of relief. It was only a woman, and she dead. He 
 knelt beside her to make sure upon this latter point. She 
 was freezing cold, and rigid like a stick. A little ragged 
 finery fluttered in the wind about her hair, and her cheeks 
 had been heavily rouged that same afternoon. Her pockets 
 were quite empty; but in her stocking, underneath the 
 garter, Villon found two of the small coins that went by 
 
260 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 the name of whites. It was little enough; but it was 
 always something; and the poet was moved with a deep 
 sense of pathos that she should have died before she had 
 spent her money. That seemed to him a dark and pitiable 
 mystery; and he looked from the coins in his hand to the 
 dead woman, and back again to the coins, shaking his 
 head over the riddle of man's life. Henry V. of England, 
 dying at Vincennes just after he had conquered France, 
 and this poor jade cut off by a cold draught in a great 
 man's doorway, before she had time to spend her couple 
 of whites — it seemed a cruel way to carry on the world. 
 Two whites would have taken such a little while to squan- 
 der; and yet it would have been one more good taste in 
 the mouth, one more smack of the lips, before the devil 
 got the soul, and the body was left to birds and vermin. 
 He would like to use all his tallow before the light was 
 blown out and the lantern broken. 
 
 While these thoughts were passing through his mind, 
 he was feeling, half mechanically, for his purse. Sud- 
 denly his heart stopped beating; a feeling of cold scales 
 passed up the back of his legs, and a cold blow seemed to 
 fall upon his scalp. He stood petrified for a moment; 
 then he felt again with one feverish movement; and then 
 his loss burst upon him, and he was covered at once with 
 perspiration. To spendthrifts money is so living and 
 actual — it is such a thin veil between them and their 
 pleasures! There is only one limit to their fortune — that 
 of time; and a spendthrift with only a few crowns is the 
 Emperor of Rome until they are spent. For such a person 
 to lose his money is to suffer the most shocking reverse, 
 and fall from heaven to hell, from all to nothing, in a 
 breath. And all the more if he has put his head in the 
 halter for it; if he may be hanged to-morrow for that same 
 purse, so dearly earned, so foolishly departed! Villon 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 261 
 
 stood and cursed; he threw the two whites into the street; 
 he shook his fist at heaven; he stamped, and was not hor- 
 rified to find himself trampling the poor corpse. Then he 
 began rapidly to retrace his steps towards the house beside 
 the cemetery. He had forgotten all fear of the patrol, 
 which was long gone by at any rate, and had no idea but 
 that of his lost purse. It was in vain that he looked 
 right and left upon the snow: nothing was to be seen. 
 He had not dropped it in the streets. Had it fallen in 
 the house? He would have liked dearly to go in and see; 
 but the idea of the grisly occupant unmanned him. And 
 he saw besides, as he drew near, that their efforts to put 
 out the fire had been unsuccessful; on the contrary, it had 
 broken into a blaze, and a changeful light played in the 
 chinks of door and window, and revived his terror for the 
 authorities and Paris gibbet. 
 
 He returned to the hotel with the porch, and groped 
 about upon the snow for the money he had thrown away 
 in his childish passion. But he could only find one white; 
 the other had probably struck sideways and sunk deeply 
 in. With a single white in his pocket, all his projects 
 for a rousing night in some wild tavern vanished utterly 
 away. And it was not only pleasure that fled laughing 
 from his grasp; positive discomfort, positive pain, at- 
 tacked him as he stood ruefully before the porch. His 
 J perspiration had dried upon him; and although the wind 
 had now fallen, a binding frost was setting in stronger 
 with every hour, and he felt benumbed and sick at heart. 
 What was to be done? Late as was the hour, improbable 
 as was success, he would try the house of his adopted 
 father, the chaplain of St. Benoit. 
 
 He ran there all the way, and knocked timidly. There 
 was no answer. He knocked again and again, taking 
 heart with every stroke; and at last steps were heard 
 
262 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 approaching from within. A barred wicket fell open in 
 the iron-studded door, and emitted a gush of yellow light. 
 
 "Hold up your face to the wicket," said the chaplain 
 from within. 
 
 "It's only me," whimpered Villon. 
 
 "Oh, it's only you, is it?" returned the chaplain; and 
 he cursed him with foul unpriestly oaths for disturbing 
 him at such an hour, and bade him be off to hell, where 
 he came from. 
 
 "My hands are blue to the wrist," pleaded Villon; "my 
 feet are dead and full of twinges; my nose aches with the 
 sharp air; the cold lies at my heart. I may be dead before 
 morning. Only this once, father, and before God, I will 
 never ask again!" 
 
 "You should have come earlier," said the ecclesiastic 
 coolly. "Young men require a lesson now and then." 
 He shut the wicket and retired deliberately into the 
 interior of the house. 
 
 Villon was beside himself; he beat upon the door with 
 his hands and feet, and shouted hoarsely after the chaplain. 
 
 "Wormy old fox!" he cried. "If I had my hand under 
 your twist, I would send you flying headlong into the 
 bottomless pit." 
 
 A door shut in the interior, faintly audible to the poet 
 down long passages. He passed his hand over his mouth 
 with an oath. And then the humor of the situation struck 
 him, and he laughed and looked lightly up to heaven, 
 where the stars seemed to be winking over his discom- 
 fiture. 
 
 What was to be done? It looked very like a night in 
 the frosty streets. The idea of the dead woman popped 
 into his imagination, and gave him a hearty fright; what 
 had happened to her in the early night might very well 
 happen to him before morning. And he so young! and 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 263 
 
 with such immense possibilities of disorderly amusement 
 before him! He felt quite pathetic over the notion of 
 his own fate, as if it had been some one else's, and made 
 a little imaginative vignette of the scene in the morning 
 when they should find his body. 
 
 He passed all his chances under review, turning the 
 white between his thumb and forefinger. Unfortunately 
 he was on bad terms with some old friends who would 
 once have taken pity on him in such a plight. He had 
 lampooned them in verses; he had beaten and cheated 
 them; and yet now, when he was in so close a pinch, he 
 thought there was at least one who might perhaps relent. 
 It was a chance. It was worth trying at least, and he 
 would go and see. 
 
 On the way, two little accidents happened to him which 
 colored his musings in a very different manner. For, 
 first, he fell in with the track of a patrol, and walked in 
 it for some hundred yards, although it lay out of his 
 direction. And this spirited him up; at least he had con- 
 fused his trail; for he was still possessed with the idea of 
 people tracking him all about Paris over the snow, and 
 collaring him next morning before he was awake. The 
 other matter affected him quite differently. He passed a 
 street corner, where, not so long before, a woman and her 
 child had been devoured by wolves. This was just the 
 kind of weather, he reflected, when wolves might take it 
 into their heads to enter Paris again; and a lone man in 
 these deserted streets would run the chance of something 
 worse than a mere scare. He stopped and looked upon 
 the place with an unpleasant interest — it was a centre 
 where several lanes intersected each other; and he looked 
 down them all, one after another, and held his breath to 
 listen, lest he should detect some galloping black things 
 on the snow or hear the sound of howling between him 
 
264 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 and the river. He remembered his mother telling him 
 the story and pointing out the spot, while he was yet a 
 child. His mother ! If he only knew where she lived, he 
 might make sure at least of shelter. He determined he 
 would inquire upon the morrow; nay, he would go and 
 see her too, poor old girl ! So thinking, he arrived at his 
 destination — his last hope for the night. 
 
 The house was quite dark, like its neighbors; and yet 
 after a few taps, he heard a movement overhead, a door 
 opening, and a cautious voice asking who was there. Thp 
 poet named himself in a loud whisper, and waited, not 
 without some trepidation, the result. Nor had he to wait 
 long A window was suddenly opened, and a pailful of 
 slops splashed down upon the doorstep. Villon had not 
 been unprepared for something of the sort, and had put 
 himself as much in shelter as the nature of the porch 
 admitted; but for all that, he was deplorably drenched 
 below the waist. His hose began to freeze almost at 
 once. Death from cold and exposure stared him in the 
 face; he remembered he was of phthisical tendency, and 
 began coughing tentatively. But the gravity of the 
 danger steadied his nerves. He stopped a few hundred 
 yards from the door where he had been so rudely used, 
 and reflected with his finger to his nose. He could only 
 see one way of getting a lodging, and that was to take 
 it. He had noticed a house not far away, which looked as 
 if it might be easily broken into, and thither he betook 
 himself promptly, entertaining himself on the way with 
 the idea of a room still hot, with a table still loaded with 
 the remains of supper, where he might pass the rest of 
 the black hours and whence he should issue, on the mor- 
 row, with an armful of valuable plate. He even consid- 
 ered on what viands and what wines he should prefer; and 
 as b? was calling the roll of his favorite dainties, roast 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 265 
 
 fish presented itself to his mind with an odd mixture of 
 amusement and horror. 
 
 "I shall never finish that ballade," he thought to him- 
 self; and then, with another shudder at the recollection, 
 "Oh, damn his fat head!" he repeated fervently, and spat 
 upon the snow. 
 
 The house in question looked dark at first sight; but as 
 Villon made a preliminary inspection in search of the 
 handiest point of attack, a little twinkle of light caught 
 his eye from behind a curtained window. 
 
 "The devil!" he thought. "People awake! Some stu- 
 dent or some saint, confound the crew ! Can't they get 
 drunk and lie in bed snoring like their neighbors! What's 
 the good of curfew, and poor devils of bell-ringers jump- 
 ing at a rope's end in bell-towers? What's the use of 
 day, if people sit up all night? The gripes to them!" 
 He grinned as he saw where his logic was leading him. 
 "Every man to his business, after all," added he, "and 
 if they're awake, by the Lord, I may come by a supper 
 honestly for once, and cheat the devil." 
 
 He went boldly to the door and knocked with an assured 
 hand. On both previous occasions, he had knocked tim- 
 idly and with some dread of attracting notice; but now 
 when he had just discarded the thought of a burglarious 
 entry, knocking at a door seemed a mighty simple and 
 innocent proceeding. The sound of his blows echoed 
 through the house with thin, phantasmal reverberations, 
 as though it were quite empty; but these had scarcely 
 .died away before a measured tread drew near, a couple of 
 bolts were withdrawn, and one wing was opened broadly, 
 as though no guile or fear of guile were known to those 
 within'. A tall figure of a man, muscular and spare, but 
 a little bent confronted Villon. The head was massive in 
 bulk, but finely sculptured; the nose blunt at the bottom. 
 
266 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 but refining upward to where it joined a pair of strong 
 and honest eyebrows; the mouth and eyes surrounded 
 with delicate markings, and the whole face based upon a 
 thick white beard, boldly and squarely trimmed. Seen as 
 it was by the light of a flickering hand-lamp, it looked 
 perhaps nobler than it had a right to do; but it was a fine 
 face, honorable rather than intelligent, strong, simple, 
 and righteous. 
 
 "You knock late, sir," said the old man in resonant, 
 courteous tones. 
 
 Villon cringed, and brought up many servile words of 
 apology; at a crisis of this sort, the beggar was upper- 
 most in him, and the man of genius hid his head with 
 confusion. 
 
 "You are cold," repeated the old man, "and hungry? 
 Well, step in. ' ' And he ordered him into the house with 
 a noble enough gesture. 
 
 "Some great seigneur," thought Villon, as his host, 
 setting down the lamp on the flagged pavement of the 
 entry, shot the bolts once more into their places. 
 
 "You will pardon me if I go in front," he said, when 
 this was done; and he preceded the poet up-stairs into a 
 large apartment, warmed with a pan of charcoal and lit 
 by a great lamp hanging from the roof. It was very[bare 
 of furniture: only some gold plate on a sideboard; some 
 folios; and a stand of armor between the windows. Some 
 smart tapestry hung upon the walls, representing the 
 crucifixion of our Lord in one piece, and in another a 
 scene of shepherds and shepherdesses by a running stream. 
 Over the chimney was a shield of arms. 
 
 "Will you seat yourself," said the old man, "and for- 
 give me if I leave you? I am alone in my house to-night, 
 and if you are to eat I must forage for you myself. ' ' 
 
 No sooner was his host gone than Villon leaped from 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 267 
 
 the chair on which he had just seated himself, and began 
 examining the room, with the stealth and passion of a 
 cat. He weighed the gold flagons in his hand, opened all 
 the folios, and investigated the arms upon the shield, and 
 the stuff with which the seats were lined. He raised the 
 window curtains, and saw that the windows were set with 
 rich stained glass in figures, so far as he could see, of 
 martial import. Then he stood in the middle of the 
 room, drew a long breath, and retaining it with puffed 
 cheeks, looked round and round him, turning on his 
 heels, as if to impress every feature of the apartment on 
 his memory. 
 
 "Seven pieces of plate," he said. "If there had been 
 ten, I would have risked it. A fine house, and a fine old 
 master, so help me all the saints!" 
 
 And just then, hearing the old man's tread returning 
 along the corridor, he stole back to his chair, and began 
 humbly toasting his wet legs before the charcoal pan. 
 
 His entertainer had a plate of meat in one hand and a 
 jug of wine in the other. He sat down the plate upon the 
 table, motioning Villon to draw in his chair, and going 
 to the sideboard, brought back two goblets, which he 
 filled. 
 
 "I drink your better fortune," he said, gravely touch- 
 ing Villon's cup with his own. 
 
 "To our better acquaintance," said the poet, growing 
 bold. A mere man of the people would have been awed 
 by the courtesy of the old seigneur, but Villon was hard- 
 ened in that matter; he had made mirth for great lords 
 before now, and found them as black rascals as himself. 
 And so he devoted himself to the viands with a ravenous 
 gusto, while the old man, leaning backward, watched him 
 with steady, curious eyes. 
 
 "You have blood on your shoulder, my man," he said. 
 
268 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 Montigny must have laid his wet hand upon him as he 
 left the house. He cursed Montigny in his heart. 
 
 "It was none of my shedding," he stammered. 
 
 "I had not supposed so," returned his host quietly. 
 "A brawl?" 
 
 "Well, something of that sort," Villon admitted with i 
 a quaver. 
 
 "Perhaps a fellow murdered?" 
 
 "Oh, no, not murdered," said the poet, more and more 
 confused. "It was all fair play — murdered by accident. 
 I had no hand in it, God strike me dead!" he added 
 fervently. 
 
 "One rogue the fewer, I dare say," observed the mas- 
 ter of the house. 
 
 "You may dare to say that," agreed Villon, infinitely 
 relieved. "As big a rogue as there is between here and 
 Jerusalem. He turned up his toes like a lamb. But it 
 was a nasty thing to look at. I dare say you've seen dead 
 men in your time, my lord?" he added, glancing at the 
 armor. 
 
 "Many," said the old man. "I have followed the wars, 
 as you imagine. " ' • 
 
 Villon laid down his knife and fork, which he had just 
 taken up again. 
 
 "Were any of them bald?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes; and with hair as white as mine." 
 
 "I don't think I should mind the white so much," said 
 Villon. "His was red." And he had a return of his 
 shuddering and tendency to laughter, which he drowned 
 with a great draught of wine. "I'm a little put out when 
 I think of it," he went on. "I knew him — damn him! 
 And then the cold gives a man fancies — or the fancies 
 give a man cold, I don't know which." 
 
 "Have you any money?" asked the old man. 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 269 
 
 "I have one white," returned the poet, laughing. "I 
 got it out of a dead jade's stocking in a porch. She was 
 as dead as Caesar, poor wench, and as cold as a church, 
 with bits of ribbon sticking in her hair. This is a hard 
 world in winter for wolves and wenches and poor rogues 
 like me." 
 
 "I," said the old man, "am Enguerrand de la Feuillee, 
 seigneur de Brisetout, bailly du Patatrac. Who and what 
 may you be?" 
 
 Villon rose and made a suitable reverence. "I am 
 called Francis Villon," he said, "a poor Master of Arts 
 of this university. I know some Latin, and a deal of 
 vice. I can make chansons, ballades, lais, virelais, and 
 roundels, and I am very fond of wine. I was born in a 
 garret, and I shall not improbably die upon the gallows. 
 I may add, my lord, that from this night forward I am 
 your lordship's very obsequious servant to command." 
 
 "No servant of mine," said the knight; "my guest for 
 this evening, and no more." 
 
 "A very grateful guest," said Villon politely, and he 
 drank in dumb show to his entertainer. 
 
 "You are shrewd," began the old man, tapping his 
 forehead, "very shrewd; you have learning; you are a 
 clerk; and yet you take a small piece of money off a dead 
 woman in the street. Is it not a kind of theft?" 
 
 "It is a kind of theft much practised in the wars, my 
 lord." 
 
 "The wars are the field of honor," returned the old 
 man proudly. "There a man plays his life upon the cast; 
 he fights in the name of his lord the king, his Lord God, 
 and all their lordships the holy saints and angels. ' ' 
 
 "Put it," said Villon, "that I were really a thief, 
 should I not play my life also, and against heavier odds?" 
 
 "For gain but not for honor." 
 
270 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Gain?" repeated Villon with a shrug. "Gain! The 
 poor fellow wants supper, and takes it. So does the 
 soldier in a campaign. Why, what are all these requi- 
 sitions we hear so much about? If they are not gain to 
 those who take them, they are loss enough to the others. 
 The men-at-arms drink by a good fire, while the burgher 
 bites his nails to buy them wine and wood. I have seen 
 a good many ploughmen swinging on trees about the 
 country; ay, I have seen thirty on one elm, and a very 
 poor figure they made; and when I 'asked someone how all 
 these came to be hanged, I was told it was because they 
 could not scrape together enough crowns to satisfy the 
 men-at-arms. ' ' 
 
 "These things are a necessity of war, which the low- 
 born must endure with constancy. It is true that some 
 captains drive overhard; there are spirits in every rank 
 not easily moved by pity; and indeed many follow arms 
 who are no better than brigands." 
 
 "You see," said the poet, "you cannot separate the 
 soldier from the brigand; and what is a thief but an 
 isolated brigand with circumspect manners? I steal a 
 couple of mutton chops, without so much as disturbing 
 people's sleep; the farmer grumbles a bit, but sups none 
 the less wholesomely on what remains. You come up 
 blowing gloriously on a trumpet, take away the whole 
 sheep, and beat the farmer pitifully into the bargain. I 
 have no trumpet; I am only Tom, Dick, or Harry; I am 
 a rogue and a dog, and hanging's too good for jne — with 
 all my heart; but just ask the farmer which of us he pre- 
 fers, just find out which of us he lies awake to curse on 
 cold nights. ' ' 
 
 "Look at us two," said his lordship. "I am old, 
 strong, and honored. If I were turned from my house 
 to-morrow, hundreds would be proud to shelter me. Poor 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 271 
 
 people would go out and pass the night in the streets with 
 their children, if I merely hinted that I wished to be 
 alone. And I find you up, wandering homeless, and pick- 
 ing farthings off dead women by the wayside ! I fear no 
 man and nothing; I have seen you tremble and lose coun- 
 tenance at a word. I wait God's summons contentedly in 
 my own house, or, if it please the king to call me out 
 again, upon the field of battle. You look for the gallows; 
 a rough, swift death, without hope or honor. Is there no 
 difference between these two?" 
 
 "As far as to the moon," Villon acquiesced. "But if 
 I had been born lord of Brisetout, and you had been the 
 poor scholar Francis, would the difference have been any 
 the less? Should not I have been warming my knees at 
 this charcoal pan, and would not you have been groping 
 for farthings in the snow? Should not I have been the 
 soldier, and you the thief?" 
 
 "A thief?" cried the old man. "I a thief! If you 
 understood your words, you would repent them." 
 
 Villon turned out his hands with a gesture of inimitable 
 impudence. "If your lordship had done me the honor to 
 follow my argument!" he said. 
 
 "I do you too much honor in submitting to your pres- 
 ence," said the knight. "Learn to curb your tongue 
 when you speak with old and honorable men, or some one 
 hastier than I may reprove you in a sharper fashion. " 
 And he rose and paced the lower end of the apartment, 
 struggling with anger and antipathy. Villon surrepti- 
 tiously refilled his cup, and settled himself more comfort- 
 ably in the chair, crossing his knees and leaning his head 
 upon one hand and the elbow against the back of the 
 chair. He was now replete and warm, and he was in no- 
 wise frightened for his host, having gauged him as justly 
 as was possible between two such different characters. 
 
272 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 The night was far spent, and in a very comfortable fashion 
 after all; and he felt morally certain of a safe departure 
 on the mWrow. 
 
 "Tell me one thing," said the old man, pausing in his 
 walk. "Are you really a thief ?" 
 
 "I claim the sacred rights of hospitality," returned the 
 poet. "My lord, I am." 
 
 "You are very young," the knight continued. 
 
 "I should never have been so old," replied Villon, 
 showing his fingers, "if I had not helped myself with 
 these ten talents. They have been my nursing mothers 
 and my nursing fathers." 
 
 "You may still repent and change." 
 
 ' ' I repent daily, "said the poet. ' ' There are few people 
 more given to repentance than poor Francis. As for 
 change, let somebody change my circumstances. A man 
 must continue to eat, if it were only that he may contimie 
 to repent." 
 
 "The change must begin in the heart," returned tlie 
 old man solemnly. 
 
 "My dear lord," answered Villon, "do you really fancy 
 that I steal for pleasure? I hate stealing, like any other 
 piece of work or of danger. My teeth chatter when I see 
 a gallows. But I must eat, I must drink, I must mix in 
 society of some sort. What the devil! Man is not a 
 solitary animal — Cui Deus fxminam tradit. Make me 
 king's pantler — make me abbot of St. Denis; make me 
 baillyof thePatatrac; and then I shall be changed indeed. 
 But as long as you leave me the poor scholar Francis 
 Villon, without a farthing, why, of course, I remain the 
 same." 
 
 "The grace of God is all-powerful." 
 
 "I should be a heretic to question it," said Francis. 
 "It has made you lord of Brisetout and bailly of the 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 273 
 
 Patatrac; it has given me nothing but the quick wits 
 under my hat and these ten tees upon my hands. May I 
 help myself to wifie? I thank you respectfully. By God's 
 grace, you have a very superior vintage." 
 
 The lord of Brisetout walked to and fro with his hands 
 behind his back. Perhaps he was not yet quite settled in 
 his mind about the parallel between thieves and soldiers; 
 perhaps Villon had interested him by some cross-thread 
 of S3mipathy; perhaps his wits were simply muddled by so 
 much unfamiliar reasoning; but whatever the cause, he 
 somehow yearned to convert the young man to a better 
 way of thinking, and could not make up his mind 1o 
 drive him forth again into the street. 
 
 "There is something more than I can understand in 
 this," he said at length. "Your mouth is full of subtle- 
 ties, and the devil has led you very far astray; but the 
 devil is only a very weak spirit before God's truth, and 
 all his subtleties vanish at a word of true honor, like dark- 
 ness at morning. Listen to me once more. I learned 
 long ago that a gentleman should live chivalrously and 
 lovingly to God, and the king, and his lady; and though 
 I have seen many strange things done, I have still striven 
 to command my ways upon that rule. It is not only 
 written in all noble histories, but in every man's heart if 
 he will take care to read. You speak of food and wine, 
 and I know very well that hunger is a difficult trial to 
 endure; but you do not speak of other wants; you say 
 nothing of honor, of faith to God and other men, of 
 courtesy, of love without reproach. It may be that I am 
 not very wise — and yet I think I am — ^but you seem to me 
 like one who has lost his way and made a great error in 
 life. You are attending to the little wants, and you have 
 totally forgotten the great and only real ones, like a man 
 who should be doctoring toothache on the Judgment Day. 
 
274 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 For such things as honor and love and faith are not only 
 nobler than food and drink, but indeed I think we desire 
 them more, and suffer more sharply for their absence. I 
 speak to you as I think you will most easily understand 
 me. Are you not, while careful to fill your belly, disre- 
 garding another appetite in your heart, which spoils the 
 pleasure of your life and keeps you continually wretched ? ' ' 
 
 Villon was sensibly nettled under all this sermonizing. 
 
 "You think I have no sense of honor!" he cried. "I'm 
 poor enough, God knows! It's hard to see rich people 
 with their gloves, and you blowing in your hands. An 
 empty belly is a bitter thing, although you speak so lightly 
 of it. If you had had as many as I, perhaps you would 
 change your tune. Any way I'm a thief — make the most 
 of that — ^but I'm not a devil from hell, God strike me 
 dead. I would have you to know I've an honor of my 
 own, as good as yours, though I don't prate about it all 
 day long, as if it was a God's miracle to have any. It 
 seems quite natural to me; I keep it in its box till its 
 wanted. Why now, look you here, how long have I been 
 in this room with you? Did you not tell me you were 
 alone in the house? Look at your gold plate! You're 
 strong, if you like, but you're old and unarmed, and I 
 have my knife. What did I want but a jerk of the elbow 
 and here would have been you With the cold steel in your 
 bowels, and there would have been me, linking in the 
 streets, with an armful of golden cups! Did you suppose 
 I hadn't wit enough to see that? And I scorned the 
 action. There are your damned goblets, as safe as in a 
 church; there are you, with your heart ticking as good as 
 new; and here am I, ready to go out again as poor as I 
 came in, with my one white that you threw in my teeth! 
 And you think I have no sense of honor — God strike me 
 dead!" 
 
A LODGING FOR THE NIGHT 275 
 
 The old man stretched out his right arm. "I will tell 
 you what you are, " he said. "You are a rogue, my man, 
 an impudent and black-hearted rogue and vagabond. I 
 have passed an hour with you. Oh! believe me, I feel 
 myself disgraced ! And you have eaten and drunk at my 
 table. But now I am sick at your presence; the day has 
 come, and the night-bird should be off to his roost. Will 
 you go before, or after?" 
 
 "Which you please," returned the poet, rising. "I 
 believe you to be strictly honorable." He thoughtfully 
 emptied his cup. "I wish I could add you were intelli- 
 gent, ' ' he went on, knocking on his head with his knuckles. 
 "Age! age! the brains stiff and rheumatic." 
 
 The old man preceded him from a point of self-respect; 
 Villon followed, whistling, with his thumbs in his girdle. 
 
 "God pity you," said the lord of Brisetout at the door. 
 
 "Good-bye, papa," returned Villon with a yawn. 
 "Many thanks for the cold mutton." 
 
 The door closed behind him. The dawn was breaking 
 over the white roofs. A chill, uncomfortable morning 
 ushered in the day. Villon stood and heartily stretched 
 himself in the middle of the road. 
 
 "A very dull old gentleman," he thought. "I wonder 
 what his goblets may be worth." 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 
 
 Denis de Beauueu was not yet two-and-twenty, but he 
 counted himself a grown man, and a very accomplished 
 cavalier into the bargain. Lads were early formed in that 
 rough, warfaring epoch; and when one has been in a 
 pitched battle and a dozen raids, has killed one's man in 
 an honorable fashion, and knows a thing or two of strategy 
 and mankind, a certain swagger in the gait is surely to 
 be pardoned. He had put up his horse with due care, and 
 supped with due deliberation; and then, in a very agree- 
 able frame of mind, went out to pay a visit in the gray of 
 the evening. It was not a very wise proceeding on the 
 young man's part. He would have done better to remain 
 beside the fire or go decently to bed. For the town was 
 full of the troops of Burgundy and England under a mixed 
 command; and though Denis was there on safe-conduct, 
 his safe-conduct was like to serve him little on a chance 
 encounter. 
 
 It was September, 1429; the weather had fallen sharp; 
 a flighty piping wind, laden with showers, beat about the 
 township; and the dead leaves ran riot along the streets. 
 Here and there a window was already lighted up; and the 
 noise of men-at-arms making merry over supper within, 
 came forth in fits and was swallowed up and carried away 
 by the wind. The night fell swiftly; the flag of England, 
 fluttering on the spire-top, grew ever fainter and fainter 
 against the flying clouds — a black speck like a swallow in 
 the tumultuous, leaden chaos of the sky. As the night 
 
THE SIRE DE MAL^TROIT'S DOOR 277 
 
 fell the wind rose, and began to hoot under archways and 
 roar amid the tree-tops in the valley below the town. 
 
 Denis de Beaulieu walked fast and was soon knocking' 
 at his friend's door; but though he promised himself to 
 stay only a little while and make an early return, his 
 welcome was so pleasant, and he found so much to delay 
 him, that it was already long past midnight before he 
 said good-bye upon the threshold. The wind had fallen 
 again in the meanwhile; the night was as black as the 
 grave; not a star, nor a glimmer of moonshine, slipped 
 through the canopy of cloud. Denis was ill-acquainted 
 with the intricate lanes of Chateau Landon; even by day- 
 light he had found some trouble in picking his way; and 
 in this absolute darkness he soon lost it altogether. He 
 was certain of one thing only — to keep mounting the hill ; 
 for his friend's house lay at the lower end, or tail, of 
 Chateau Landon, while the inn was up at the head, under 
 the great church spire. With this clue to go upon he 
 stumbled and groped forward, now breathing more freely 
 in open places where there was a good slice of sky over- 
 head, now feeling along the wall in stifling closes. It is 
 an eerie and mysterious position to be thus submerged in 
 opaque blackness in an almost unknown town. The silence 
 is terrifying in its possibilities. The touch of cold win- 
 dow bars to the exploring hand startles the man like the 
 touch of a toad; the inequalities of the pavement shake 
 his heart into his mouth; a piece of denser darkness 
 threatens an ambuscade or a chasm in the pathway; and 
 where the air is brighter, the houses put on strange and 
 bewildering appearances, as if to lead him farther from 
 his way. For Denis, who had to regain his inn without 
 attracting notice, there was real danger as well as mere 
 discomfort in the walk; and he went warily and boldly at 
 once, and at every corner paused to make an ©bservation. 
 
278 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 He had been for some time threading a lane so narrow 
 that he could touch a wall with either hand when it began 
 to open out and go sharply downward. Plainly this lay no 
 longer in the direction of his inn; but the hope of a little 
 more light tempted him forward to reconnoitre. The 
 lane ended in a terrace with a bartizan wall, which gave 
 an outlook between high houses, as out of an embrasure, 
 into the valley lying dark and formless several hundred 
 feet below. Denis looked down, and could discern a few 
 tree-tops waving and a single speck of brightness where 
 the river ran across a weir. The weather was clearing 
 up, and the sky had lightened, so as to show the outline 
 of the heavier clouds and the dark margin of the hills. 
 By the uncertain glimmer, the house on his left hand 
 should be a place of some pretensions; it was surmounted 
 by several pinnacles and turret- tops; the round stern of a 
 chapel, with a fringe of flying buttresses, projected boldly 
 from the main block; and the door was shsitered under a 
 deep porch carved with figures and overhung by two long 
 gargoyles. The windows of the chapel gleamed through 
 their intricate tracery with a light as of many tapers, and 
 threw out the buttresses and the peaked roof in a more 
 intense blackness against the sky. It was plainly the 
 hotel of some great family of the neighborhood; and as it 
 reminded Denis of a town house of his own at Bourges, 
 he stood for some time gazing up at it and mentally 
 gauging the skill of the architects and the consideration 
 of the two families. 
 
 There seemed to be no issue to the terrace but the lane 
 by which he had reached it; he could only retrace his 
 steps, but he had gained some notion of his whereabouts, 
 and hoped by this means to hit the main thoroughfare and 
 speedily regain the inn. He was reckoning without that 
 chapter of accidents which was to make this night memor- 
 
THE SIRE DE MAL6tR01T'S DOOR 279 
 
 able above all others in his career; for he had not gone 
 back above a hundred yards before he saw a light coming 
 to meet him, and heard loud voices speaking together in 
 the echoing narrows of the lane. It was a party of men- 
 at-arms going the night round with torches. Denis 
 assured himself that they had all been making free with 
 the wine-bowl, and were in no mood to be particular 
 about safe-conducts or the niceties of chivalrous war. It 
 was as like as not that they would kill him like a dog 
 and leave him where he fell. The situation was inspirit- 
 ing but nervous. Their own torches would conceal him 
 from sight, he reflected; and he hoped that they would 
 drown the noise of his footsteps with their own empty 
 voices. If he were but fleet and silent, he might evade 
 their notice altogether. 
 
 Unfortunately, as he turned to beat a retreat, his foot 
 rolled upon a pebble; he fell against the wall with an 
 ejaculation, and his sword rang loudly on the stones. 
 Two or three voices demanded who went there — some in 
 French, some in English; but Denis made no reply, and 
 ran the faster down the lane. Once upon the terrace, he 
 paused to look back. They still kept calling after him, 
 and just then began to double the pace in pursuit, with a 
 considerable clank of armor, and great tossing of the 
 torchlight to and fro in the narrow jaws of the passage. 
 
 Denis cast a look around and darted into the porch. 
 There he might escape observation, or — if that were too 
 much to expect — was in a capital posture whether for 
 parley or defence. So thinking, he drew his sword and 
 tried to set his back against the door. To his surprise, 
 it yielded behind his weight; and though he turned in a 
 moment, continued to swing back on oiled and noiseless 
 hinges, until it stood wide open on a black interior. 
 When things fall out opportunely for the person concerned, 
 
280 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 he is not apt to be critical about the how or why, his own 
 immediate personal convenience seeming a suflBcient rea- 
 son for the strangest oddities and revolutions in our 
 sublunary things; and so Denis, without a moment's hesi- 
 tation, stepped within and partly closed the door behind 
 him to conceal his place of refuge. Nothing was further 
 from his thoughts than to close it altogether; but for some 
 inexplicable reason — perhaps by a spring or a weight — 
 the ponderous mass of oak whipped itself out of his fingers 
 and clanked to, with a formidable rumble and a noise 
 like the falling of an automatic bar. 
 
 The round, at that very moment, debouched upon the 
 terrace and proceeded to summon him with shouts and 
 curses. He heard them ferreting in the dark corners; 
 the stock of a lance even rattled along the outer surface 
 of the door behind which he stood; but these gentlemen 
 were in too high a humor to be long delayed, and soon 
 made off down a corkscrew pathway which had escaped 
 Denis's observation, and passed out of sight and hearing 
 along the battlements of the town. 
 
 Denis breathed again. He gave them a few minutes' 
 grace for fear of accidents, and then groped about for 
 some means of opening the door and slipping forth again. 
 The inner surface was quite smooth, not a handle, not a 
 moulding, not a projection of any sort. He got his finger- 
 nails round the edges and pulled, but the mass was im- 
 movable. He shook it, it was as firm as a rock. Denis 
 de Beaulieu frowned and gave vent to a little noiseless 
 whistle. What ailed the door? he wondered. Why was 
 it open? How came it to shut so easily and so effectually 
 after him? There was something obscure and underhand 
 about all this, that was little to the young man's fancy. 
 It looked like a snare, and yet who could suppose a snare 
 in such a quiet by-street and in a house of so prosperous 
 
THE SIRE DE MALfiTROIT'S DOOK 281 
 
 and even noble an exterior? And yet — snare or no snare, 
 intentionally or unintentionally — here he was, prettily 
 trapped; and for the life of him he could see no way out 
 of it again. The darkness began to weigh upon him. He 
 gave ear; all was silent without, but within and close by 
 he seemed to catch a faint sighing, a faint sobbing rustle, 
 a little stealthy creak — as though many persons were at 
 his side, holding themselves quite still, and governing 
 even their respiration with the extreme of slyness. The 
 idea went to his vitals with a shock, and he faced about 
 suddenly as if to defend his life. Then, for the first 
 time, he became aware of a light about the level of his 
 eyes and at some distance in the interior of the house — a 
 vertical thread of light, widening towards the bottom, 
 such as might escape between two wings of arras over a 
 doorway. To see anything was a relief to Denis; it was 
 like a piece of solid ground to a man laboring in a morass; 
 his mind seized upon it with avidity; and he stood staring 
 at it and trying to piece together some logical conception 
 of his surroundings. Plainly there was a flight of steps 
 ascending from his own level to that of this illuminated 
 doorway; and indeed he thought he could make out another 
 thread of light, as fine as a needle and as faint as phos- 
 phorescence, which might very well be reflected along the 
 polished wood of a handrail. Since he had begun to sus- 
 pect that he was not alone, his heart had continued to beat 
 with smothering violence, and an intolerable desire for 
 action of any sort had possessed itself of his spirit. He 
 was in deadly peril, he believed. What could be more 
 natural than to mount the staircase, lift the curtain, and 
 confront his difficulty at once? At least he would be 
 dealing with something tangible; at least he would be no 
 longer in the dark. He stepped slowly forward with out- 
 stretched hands, until his foot struck the bottom step; 
 
282 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 then he rapidly scaled the stairs, stood for a moment to 
 compose his expression, lifted the arras and went in. 
 
 He found himself in a large apartment of polished 
 stone. There were three doors; one on each of three 
 sides; all similarly curtained with tapestry. The fourth 
 side was occupied by two large windows and a great stone 
 chimney-piece, carved with the arms of the Maletroits. 
 Denis recognized the bearings, and was gratified to find 
 himself in such good hands. The room was strongly 
 illuminated; but it contained little furniture except a 
 heavy table and a chair or two, the hearth was innocent 
 of fire, and the pavement was but sparsely strewn with 
 rushes clearly many days old. 
 
 On a high chair beside the chimney, and directly facing 
 Denis as he entered, sat a little old gentleman in a fur 
 tippet. He sat with his legs crossed and his hands folded, 
 and a cup of spiced wine stood by his elbow on a bracket 
 on the wall. His countenance had a strongly masculine 
 cast; not properly human, but such as we see in the bull, 
 the goat, or the domestic boar; something equivocal and 
 wheedling, something greedy, brutal, and dangerous. 
 The upper lip was inordinately full, as though swollen by 
 a blow or a toothache; and the smile, the peaked eye- 
 brows, and the small, strong eyes were quaintly and 
 almost comically evil in expression. Beautiful white hair 
 hung straight all round his head, like a saint's, and fell 
 in a single curl upon the tippet. His beard and mous- 
 tache were the pink of venerable sweetness. Age, proba- 
 bly in consequence of inordinate precautions, had left no 
 mark upon his hands; and the Maletroit hand was famous. 
 It would be difficult to imagine anything at once so fleshy 
 and so delicate in design; the taper, sensual fingers were 
 like those of one of Leonardo's women; the fork of the 
 thumb made a dimpled protuberance when closed; the 
 
THE SIRE DE MALfiTROIT'S DOOR 283 
 
 nails were perfectly shaped, and of a dead, surprising 
 whiteness. It rendered his aspect tenf6ld more redoubt- 
 able, that a man with hands like these should keep them 
 devoutly folded like a virgin martyr — that a man with 
 so intent and startling an expression of face should sit 
 patiently on his seat and contemplate people with an un- 
 winking stare, like a god, or a god's statue^ His quies- 
 cence seemed ironical and treacherous, it fitted so poorly 
 with his looks. 
 
 Such was Alain, Sire de Maletroit. 
 
 Denis and he looked silently at each other for a second 
 or two. 
 
 "Pray step in," said the Sire de Maletroit. "I have 
 been expecting you all the evening. ' ' 
 
 He had not risen but he accompanied his words with a 
 smile and a slight but courteous inclination of the head. 
 Partly from the smile, partly from the strange musical 
 murmur with which the Sire prefaced his observation, 
 Denis felt a strong shudder of disgust go through his 
 marrow. And what with disgust and honest confusion of 
 mind, he could scarcely get words together in reply. 
 
 "I fear," he said, "that this is a double accident. I 
 am not the person you suppose me. It seems you were 
 looking for a visit; but for my part, nothing was further 
 from my thoughts — nothing could be more contrary to 
 my wishes — than this intrusion. ' ' 
 
 ' 'Well, well, ' ' replied the old gentleman indulgently, 
 "here you are, which is the main point. Seat yourself, 
 my friend, and put yourself entirely at your ease. We 
 shall arrange our little affairs presently." 
 
 Denis perceived that the matter was still complicated 
 with some misconception, and he hastened to continue his 
 explanations. 
 
 "Your door . . . ."he began. 
 
284 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "About my door?" asked the other raising his peaked 
 eyebrows. "A little piece of ingenuity. " And he shrugged 
 his shoulders. "A hospitable fancy! By your own ac- 
 count, you were not desirous of making my acquaintance. 
 We old people look for such reluctance now and then; 
 when it touches our honor, we cast about until we find 
 some way of overcoming it. You arrive uninvited, but 
 believe me, very welcome." 
 
 "You persist in error, sir," said Denis. "There can 
 be no question between you and me. I am a stranger in 
 this countryside. My name is Denis, damoiseau de Beau- 
 lieu. If you see me in your house, it is only ' ' 
 
 "My young friend," interrupted the other, "you will 
 permit me to have my own ideas on that subject. They 
 probably differ from yours at the present moment, ' ' he 
 added with a leer, ' 'but time will show which of us is in 
 the right." 
 
 Denis was convinced he had to do with a lunatic. He 
 seated himself with a shrug, content to wait the upshot; 
 and a pause ensued, during which he thought he could 
 distinguish a hurried gabbling as of prayer from behind 
 the arras immediately opposite him. Sometimes there 
 seemed to be but one person engaged, sometimes two; 
 and the vehemence of the voice, low as it was, seemed to 
 indicate either great haste or an agony of spirit. It 
 occurred to him that this piece of tapestry covered the 
 entrance to the chapel he had noticed from without. 
 
 The old gentleman meanwhile surveyed Denis from 
 head to foot with a smile, and from time to time emitted 
 little noises like a bird or a mouse, which seemed to indi- 
 cate a high degree of satisfaction. This state of matters 
 became rapidly insupportable; and Denis, to put an end 
 to it, remarked politely that the wind had gone down. 
 
 The old gentleman fell into a fit of silent laughter, so 
 
THE SIRE DE MAL^TROIT'S DOOR 285 
 
 prolonged and violent that he became quite red in the 
 face. Denis got upon his feet at once, and put on his hat 
 with a flourish. 
 
 "Sir," he said, "if you are in your wits, you have 
 affronted me grossly. If you are out of them, I flatter 
 myself I can find better employment for my brains than 
 to talk with lunatics. My conscience is clear; you have 
 made a fool of me from the first moment; you have re- 
 fused to hear my explanations; and now there is no power 
 under God will make me stay here any longer; and if I 
 cannot make my way out in a more decent fashion, I will 
 hack your door in pieces with my sword. ' ' 
 
 The Sire de Maletroit raised his right hand and wagged 
 it at Denis with the fore and little fingers extended. 
 
 "My dear nephew," he said, "sit down." 
 
 "Nephew!" retorted Denis, "you lie in your throat;" 
 and he snapped his fingers in his face. 
 
 "Sit down, you rogue!" cried the old gentleman, in a 
 sudden, harsh voice, like the barking of a dog. "Do you 
 fancy," he went on, "that when I had made my little 
 contrivance for the door I had stopped short with that? 
 If you prefer to be bound hand and foot till your bones 
 ache, rise and try to go away. If you choose to remain a 
 a free young buck, agreeably conversing with an old 
 gentleman — why, sit where you are in peace, and God ^be 
 with you." 
 
 "Do you mean I am a prisoner?" demanded Denis. 
 
 "I state the facts," replied the other. "I would rather 
 leave the conclusion to yourself. ' ' 
 
 Denis sat down again. Externally he managed to keep 
 pretty calm, but within, he was now boiling with anger, 
 now chilled with apprehension. He no longer felt con- 
 vinced that he was dealing with a madman. And if the 
 old gentleman was sane, what, in God's name, had he to 
 
286 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 look for? What absurd or tragical adventure had befallen 
 him? What countenance was he to assume? 
 
 While he was thus unpleasantly reflecting, the arras 
 that overhung the chapel door was raised, and a tall priest 
 in his robes came forth and, giving a long, keen stare 
 at Denis, said something in an undertone to Sire de 
 Maletroit. 
 
 "She is in a better frame of spirit?" asked the latter. 
 
 "She is more resigned, messire," replied the priest. 
 
 "Now the Lord help her, she is hard to please!" sneered 
 the old gentleman. "A likely stripling — not ill-born — and 
 of' her own choosing, too? Why, what more would the 
 jade have?" 
 
 "The situation is not usual for a young damsel," said 
 the other, "and somewhat trying to her blushes." 
 
 "She should have thought of that before she began the 
 dance? It was none of my choosing, God knows that; but 
 since she is in it, by our lady, she shall carry it to the end. ' ' 
 And then addressing Denis, "Monsieur de Beaulieu," he 
 asked, "may I present you to my niece? She has been 
 waiting your arrival, I may say, with even greater im- 
 patience than myself. ' ' 
 
 Denis had resigned himself with a good grace — all he 
 desired was to know the worst of it as speedily as possi- 
 ble; so he rose at once, and bowed in acquiescence. The 
 Sire de Maletroit followed his example and limped, with 
 the assistance of the chaplain's arm, towards the chapel- 
 door. The priest pulled aside the arras, and all three 
 entered. The building had considerable architectural 
 pretensions. A light groining sprang from six stout 
 columns, and hung down in two rich pendants from the 
 centre of the vault. The place terminated behind the 
 altar in a round end, embossed and honeycombed with a 
 superfluity of ornament in relief, and pierced by many 
 
THE SIRE DE MAL^TROIT'S DOOR 287 
 
 little windows shaped like stars, trefoils, or wheels. These 
 windows were imperfectly glazed, so that the night air 
 circulated freely in the chapel. The tapers, of which there 
 must have been half a hundred burning on the altar, were 
 unmercifully blown about; and the light went through 
 many different phases of brilliancy and semi-eclipse. On 
 the steps in front of the altar knelt a young girl richly 
 attired as a bride. A chill settled over Denis as he ob- 
 served her costume; he fought with desperate energy 
 against the conclusion that was being thrust upon his 
 mind ; it could not — it should not — be as he feared. 
 
 "Blanche," said the Sire, in his most flute-like tones, 
 "I have brought a friend to see you, my little girl; turn 
 round and give him your pretty hand. It is good to be 
 devout; but it is necessary to be polite, my niece." 
 
 The girl rose to her feet and turned toward the new 
 comers. She moved all of a piece; ,and shame and ex- 
 haustion were expressed in every line of her fresh young 
 body; and she held her head down and kept her eyes upon 
 the pavement, as she came slowly forward. In the course 
 of her advance, her eyes fell upon Denis de Beaulieu's 
 feet — feet of which he was justly vain, be it remarked, 
 and wore in the most elegant accoutrement even while 
 traveling. She paused — started, as if his yellow boots 
 had conveyed some shocking meaning — and glanced sud- 
 denly up into the wearer's countenance. Their eyes met; 
 shame gave place to horror and terror in her looks; the 
 blood left her lips; with a piercing scream she covered 
 her face with her hands and sank upon the chapel floor. 
 
 "That is not the man!" she cried. "My uncle, that is 
 not the man!" 
 
 The Sire de Maletroit chirped agreeably. "Of course 
 not," he said, "I expected as much. It was so unfortu- 
 nate you could not remember his name." 
 
288 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Indeed," she cried, "indeed, I have never seen this 
 person till this moment — I have never so much as set eyes 
 upon him — I never wish to see him again. Sir," she 
 said, turning to Denis, "if you are a gentleman, you wrill 
 bear me out. Have I ever seen you — have you ever seen 
 me — before this accursed hour?" 
 
 "To speak for myself, I have never had that pleasure," 
 answered the young man. "This is the first time, mes- 
 sire, that I have met with your engaging niece." 
 
 The old gentleman shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 "I am distressed to hear it," he said. "But it is never 
 too late to begin. I had little more acquaintance with 
 my own late lady ere I married her; which proves," he 
 added, with a grimace, ' 'that these impromptu marriages 
 may often produce an excellent understanding in the long 
 run. As the bridegroom is to have a voice in the matter, 
 I will give him two hours to make up for lost time before 
 we proceed with the ceremony." And he turned toward 
 the door, followed by the clergyman. 
 
 The girl was on her feet in a moment. "My uncle, you 
 cannot be in earnest," she said. "I declare before God I 
 will stab myself rather than be forced on that young man. 
 The heart rises at it; God forbids such marriages; you 
 dishonor your white hair. Oh, my uncle, pity me! There 
 is not a woman in all the world but would prefer death to 
 such a nuptial. Is it possible," she added, faltering — "is 
 it possible that you do not believe me — that you still 
 think this' ' — and she pointed at Denis with a tremor of 
 anger and contempt — "that you still think this to be the 
 man?" 
 
 "Frankly," said the old gentleman, pausing on the 
 threshold, "I do. But let me explain to you once for all, 
 Blanche de Maletroit, my way of thinking about this 
 affair. When you took it into your head to dishonor my 
 
THE SIRE DE MAL^TROIT'S DOOR 289 
 
 family and the name that I have borne, in peace and war, 
 for more than three-score years, you forfeited, not only 
 the right to question my designs, but that of looking me 
 in the face. If your father had been alive, he would have 
 spat on you and turned you out of doors. His was the 
 hand of iron. You may bless your God you have only to 
 deal with the hand of velvet, mademoiselle. It was my 
 duty to get you married without delay. Out of pure 
 good-will, I have tried to find your own gallant for you. 
 And I believe I have succeeded. But before God and all 
 the holy angels, Blanche de Maletroit, if I have not, I care 
 not one jack-straw. So let me recommend you to be 
 polite to our young friend ; for upon my word, your next 
 groom may be less appetizing. ' ' 
 
 And with that he went out, with the chaplain at his 
 heels; and the arras fell behind the pair. 
 
 The girl turned upon Denis with flashing eyes. 
 
 "And what, sir," she demanded, "may be the meaning 
 of all this?" 
 
 "God knows," returned Denis, gloomily. "I am a 
 prisoner in this house, which seems full of mad people. 
 More I know not; and nothing do I understand." 
 
 ' 'And pray how came you here, ' ' she asked. 
 
 He told her as briefly as he could. "For the rest," he 
 added, "perhaps you will follow my example, and tell me 
 the answer to all these riddles, and what, in God's name, 
 is like to be the end of it." 
 
 She stood silent for a little, and he could see her lips 
 tremble and her tearless eyes burn with a feverish lustre. 
 Then she pressed her forehead in both hands. 
 
 "Alas, how my head aches!" she said wearily — "to say 
 nothing of my poor heart! But it is due to you to know 
 my story, unmaidenly as it must seem. I am called 
 Blanche de Maletroit; I have been without father or 
 
290 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 mother for — oh! for as long as I can recollect, and indeed 
 I have been most unhappy all my life. Three months ago 
 a young captain began to stand near me every day in 
 church. I could see that I pleased him; I am much to 
 blame, but I was so glad that anyone should love me; and 
 when he passed me a letter, I took it home with me and 
 read it with great pleasure. Since that time he has writ- 
 ten many. He was so anxious to speak with me, poor 
 fellow! and kept asking me to leave the door open some 
 evening that we might have two words upon the stair. 
 For he knew how much my uncle trusted me." She gave 
 something like a sob at that, and it was a moment before 
 she could go on. "My uncle is a hard man, but he is very 
 shrewd," she said at last. "He has performed many 
 feats in war, and was a great person at court, and much 
 trusted by Queen Isabeau in old days. How he came to 
 suspect me I cannot tell; but it is hard to keep anything 
 from his knowledge; and this morning, as we came from 
 mass, he took my hand into his, forced it open, and read 
 my little billet, walking by my side all the while. When 
 he finished, he gave it back to me with great politeness. 
 It contained another request to have the door left open; 
 and this has been the ruin of us all. My uncle kept me 
 strictly in my room until evening, and then ordered me 
 to dress myself as you see me — a hard mockery for a young 
 girl, do you not think so? I suppose, when he could not 
 prevail with me to tell him the young captain's name, he 
 must have laid a trap for him: into which, alas! you have 
 fallen in the anger of God. I looked for much confusion; 
 for how could I tell whether he yraa willing to take me 
 for his wife on these sharp terms? He might have been 
 trifling with me from the first; or I might have made 
 myself too cheap in his eyes. But truly I had not looked 
 for such a shameful punishment as this! I could not 
 
THE SIRE DE MAL^TROIT'S DOOR 291 
 
 think that God would let a girl be so disgraced before a 
 young man. And now I tell you all; and I can scarcely 
 hope that you will not despise me." 
 
 Denis made her a respectful inclination. 
 
 "Madam," he said, "you have honored me by your 
 confidence. It remains for me to prove that I am not un- 
 worthy of the honor. Is Messire de Maletroit at hand?" 
 
 "I believe he is writing in the salle without," she 
 answered. 
 
 "May I lead you, thither, madam?" asked Denis, offer- 
 ing his hand with his most courtly bearing. 
 
 She accepted it; and the pair passed out of the chapel, 
 Blanche in a very drooping and shamefast condition, but 
 Denis strutting and ruffling in the consciousness of a 
 mission, and the boyish certainty of accomplishing it 
 with honor. 
 
 The Sire de Maletroit rose to meet them with an iron- 
 ical obeisance. 
 
 "Sir," said Denis, with the grandest possible air, "I 
 believe I am to have some say in the matter of this mar- 
 riage; and let me tell you at once, I will be no party to 
 forcing the inclination of this young lady. Had it been 
 freely offered to me, I should have been proud to accept 
 her hand, for I perceive she is as good as she is beautiful; 
 but as things are, I have now the honor, messire, cf 
 refusing." 
 
 Blanche looked at him with gratitude in her eyes; but 
 the old gentleman only smiled and smiled, until his smile 
 grew positively sickening to Denis. 
 
 "I am afraid," he said, "Monsieur de Beaulieu, that 
 you do not perfectly understand the choice I have offered 
 you. Follow me, I beseech you, to this window." And 
 he led the way to one of the large windows which stood 
 open on the night. "You observe," he went' on, "there 
 
292 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 is an iron ring in the upper masonry, and reeved through 
 that, a very eflScacious rope. Now, mark my words: if 
 you should find your disinclination to my niece's person 
 insurmountable, I shall have you hanged out of this win- 
 dow before sunrise. I shall only proceed to such an 
 extremity with the greatest regret, you may believe me. 
 For it is not at all your death that I desire, but my niece's 
 establishment in life. At the same time, it must come to 
 that if you prove obstinate. Your family, Monsieur de 
 Beaulieu, is very well in its way; but if you sprang from 
 Charlemagne, you should not refuse the hand of a Maletroit 
 with impunity — not if she had been as common as the 
 Paris road — not if she were as hideous as the gargoyle 
 over my door. Neither my niece nor you, nor my own 
 private feelings, move me at all in this matter. The 
 honor of my house has been compromised; I believe you 
 to be the guilty person, at least you are now in the secret; 
 and you can hardly wonder if I request you to wipe out 
 the stain. If you will not, your blood be on your own 
 head ! It will be no great satisfaction to me to have your 
 interesting relics kicking their heels in the breeze below 
 my windows, but half a loaf is better than no bread, and 
 if I cannot cure the dishonor, I shall at least stop the 
 scandal." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "I believe there are other ways of settling such im- 
 broglios among gentlemen," said Denis. "You wear a 
 sword, and I hear you have used it with distinction." 
 
 The Sire de Maletroit made a signal to the chaplain, 
 who crossed the room with long silent strides and raised 
 the arras over the third of the three doors. It was only 
 a moment before he let it fall again; but Denis had time 
 to see a dusky passage full of armed men. 
 
 "When I was a little younger, I should have been de- 
 
THE SIRE DE MAL^TROIT'S DOOR 293 
 
 lighted to honor you. Monsieur de Beaulieu, ' ' said Sire 
 Alain; "but I am now too old. Faithful retainers are the 
 sinews of age, and I must employ the strength I have. 
 This is one of the hardest things to swallow as a man 
 grows up in years; but with a little patience, even this 
 becomes habitual. You and the lady seem to prefer the 
 salle for what remains of your two hours; and as I have 
 no desire to cross your preference, I shall resign it to your 
 use with all the pleasure in the world. No haste!" he 
 added, holding up his hand, as he saw a dangerous look 
 come into Denis de Beaulieu's face. "If your mind re- 
 volt against hanging, it will be time enough two hours 
 hence to throw yourself out of the window or upon the 
 pikes of my retainers. Two hours of life are always two 
 hours. A great many things may turn up in even as little 
 a while as that. And, besides, if I understand her ap- 
 pearance, my niece has something to say to you. You 
 will not disfigure your last hours by a want of politeness 
 to a lady?" 
 
 Denis looked at Blanche, and she made him an implor- 
 ing gesture. 
 
 It is likely that the old gentleman was hugely pleased 
 at this symptom of an understanding; for he smiled 
 on both, and added sweetly: "If you will give me your 
 word of honor. Monsieur de Beaulieu, to await my 
 return at the end of the two hours before attempt- 
 ing anything desperate, I shall withdraw my re- 
 tainers, and let you speak in greater privacy with 
 mademoiselle." 
 
 Denis again glanced at the girl, who seemed to beseech 
 him to agree. 
 
 "I give you my word of honor," he said. 
 
 Messire de Maletroit bowed, and proceeded to limp 
 about the apartment, clearing his throat the while with 
 
294 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 that odd musical chirp which had already grown so irri- 
 tating in the ears of Denis de Beaulieu. He first possessed 
 himself of some papers which lay upon the table; then he 
 went to the mouth of the passage and appeared to give an 
 order to the men behind the arras; and lastly he hobbled 
 out through the door by which Denis had come in, turning 
 upon the threshold to address a last smiling bow to the 
 young couple, and followed by the chaplain with a hand- 
 lamp. 
 
 No sooner were they alone than Blanche advanced 
 towards Denis with her hands extended. Her face was 
 flushed and excited, and her eyes shone with tears. 
 
 "You shall not die!" she cried, "you shall marry me 
 after all." 
 
 "You seem to think, madam," replied Denis, "that I 
 stand much in fear of death." 
 
 "Oh, no, no," she said, "I see you are no poltroon. It 
 is for my own sake — I could not bear to have you slain for 
 such a scruple." 
 
 "I am afraid," returned Denis, "that you underrate 
 the difficulty, madam. What you may be too generous to 
 refuse, I may be too proud to accept. In a moment of 
 noble feeling towards me, you forgot what you perhaps 
 owe to others." 
 
 He had the decency to keep his eyes on the floor as he 
 said this, and after he had finished, so as not to spy upon 
 her confusion. She stood silent for a moment, then walked 
 suddenly away, and falling on her uncle's chair, fairly 
 burst out sobbing. Denis was in the acme of embarrass- 
 ment. He looked round, as if to seek for inspiration, and 
 seeing a stool, plumped down upon it for something to 
 do. There he sat playing with the guard of his rapier, 
 and wishing himself dead a thousand times over, and 
 buried in the nastiest kitchen-heap in France. His eyes 
 
THE SIRE DE MALIETROIT'S DOOR 295 
 
 wandered round the apartment, but found nothing to 
 arrest them. There were such wide spaces between the 
 furniture, the light fell so badly and cheerlessly over all, 
 the dark outside air looked in so coldly through the win- 
 dows, that he thought he had never seen a church so vast, 
 nor a tomb so melancholy. The regular sobs of Blanche 
 de Maletroit measured out the time like the ticking of a 
 clock. He read the device upon the shield over and over 
 again, until his eyes became obscured; he stared into 
 shadowy corners until he imagined they were swarming 
 with horrible animals; and every now and again he awoke 
 with a start, to remember that his last two hours were 
 running, and death was on the march. 
 
 Oftener and oftener, as the time went on, did his glance 
 settle on the girl herself. Her face was bowed forward 
 and covered with her hands, and she was shaken at inter- 
 vals by the convulsive hiccup of grief. Even thus she 
 was not an unpleasant object to dwell upon, so plump and 
 yet so fine, with a warm brown skin, and the most beau- 
 tiful hair, Denis thought, in the whole world of woman- 
 kind. Her hands were like her uncle's; but they were 
 more in place at the end of her young arms, and looked 
 infinitely soft and caressing. He remembered how her 
 blue eyes had shone upon him, full of anger, pity, and 
 innocence. And the more he dwelt on her perfections, 
 the uglier death looked, and the more deeply was he 
 smitten with penitence at her continued tears. Now he 
 felt that no man could have the courage to leave a world 
 which contained so beautiful a creature; and now he 
 would have given forty minutes of his last hour to have 
 unsaid his cruel speech. 
 
 Suddenly a hoarse and ragged peal of cockcrow rose to 
 their ears from the dark valley below the windows. And 
 this shattering noise in the silence of all around was like 
 
296 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 a light in a dark place, and shook them both out of their 
 reflections. 
 
 "Alas, can I do nothing to help you?" she said, look- 
 ing up. 
 
 "Madam," replied Denis, with a fine irrelevancy, "if 
 I have said anything to wound you, believe me, it was 
 for your own sake and not for mine. ' ' 
 
 She thanked him with a tearful look. 
 
 "I feel your position cruelly," he went on. "The 
 world has been bitter hard on you. Your uncle is a dis- 
 grace to mankind. Believe me, madam, there is no young 
 gentleman in all France but would be glad of my oppor- 
 tunity, to die in doing you a momentary service. ' ' 
 
 ' 'I know already that you can be very brave and gener- 
 ous," she answered. "What I want to know is whether 
 I can serve you — now or afterwards, ' ' she added, with a 
 quaver. 
 
 "Most certainly," he answered with a smile. "Let 
 me sit beside you as if I were a friend, instead of a fool- 
 ish intruder; try to forget how awkwardly we are placed 
 to one another; make my last moments go pleasantly; and 
 you will do me the chief service possible." 
 
 "You are very gallant," she added, with a yet deeper 
 sadness .... "very gallant .... and it somehow 
 pains me. But draw nearer, if you please; and if you 
 find anything to say to me, you will at least make certain 
 of a very friendly listener. Ah! Monsieur de Beaulieu," 
 she broke forth — "ah! Monsieur de Beaulieu, how can I 
 look you in the face?" And she fell to weeping again 
 with a renewed effusion. 
 
 "Madam," said Denis, taking her hand in both of his, 
 "reflect on the little time I have before me, and the 
 great bitterness into which I am cast by the sight of 
 your distress. Spare me, in my last moments, the spec- 
 
THE SIRE DE MALETROIT'S DOOR 297 
 
 tacle of what I cannot cure even with the sacrifice of my 
 life." 
 
 "1 am very selfish, " answered Blanche. "I will be 
 braver. Monsieur de Beaulieu, for your sake. But think 
 if I can do you no kindness in the future — if you have no 
 friends to whom I could carry your adieux. Charge me 
 as heavily as you can; every burden will lighten, by so 
 little, the invaluable gratitude I owe you. Put it in my 
 power to do something more for you than weep. ' ' 
 
 "My mother is married again, and has a young family 
 to care for. My brother Guichard will inherit my fiefs; 
 and if I am not in error, that will content him amply for 
 my death. Life is a little vapor that passeth away, as we 
 are told by those in holy orders. When a man is in a fair 
 way and sees all life open in front of him, he seems to 
 himself to make a very important figure in the world. 
 His horse whinnies to him; the trumpets blow and the 
 girls look out of window as he rides into town before his 
 company; he receives many assurances of trust and regard 
 — sometimes by express in a letter — sometimes face to 
 face, with persons of great consequence falling on his 
 neck. It is not wonderful if his head is turned for a 
 time. But once he is dead, were he as brave as Hercules 
 or as wise as Solomon, he is soon forgotten. It is not ten 
 years since my father fell, with many other knights 
 around him, in a very fierce encounter, and I do not think 
 that any one of them, nor so much as the name of the 
 fight, is now remembered. No, no, madam, the nearer 
 you come to it, you see that death is a dark and dusty 
 corner, where a man gets into his tomb and has the door 
 shut after him till the judgment day. I have few friends 
 just now, and once I am dead I shall have none." 
 
 "Ah, Monsieur de Beaulieu!" she exclaimed, "you for- 
 get Blanche de Maletroit. ' ' 
 
298 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 ' 'You have a sweet nature, madam, and you are pleased 
 to estimate a little service far beyond its worth." 
 
 "It is not that," she answered. "You mistake me if 
 you think I am easily touched by my own concerns. I 
 say so, because you are the noblest man I have ever met; 
 because I recognize in you a spirit that would have made 
 even a common person famous in the land." 
 
 "And yet here I die in a mousetrap — with no more 
 noise about it than my own squeaking," answered he. 
 
 A look of pain crossed her face, and she was silent for 
 a little while. Then a light came into her eyes, and with 
 a smile she spoke again. 
 
 "I cannot have my champion think meanly of himself. 
 Anyone who gives his life for another will be met in 
 Paradise by all the heralds and angels of the Lord God. 
 And you have no such cause to hang your head. For 
 .... Pray, do you think me beautiful?" she asked, 
 with a deep flush. 
 
 "Indeed, madam, I do," he said. 
 
 "I am glad of that," she answered heartily. "Do you 
 think there are many men in France who have been asked 
 in marriage by a beautiful maiden-^with her own lips — 
 and who have refused her to her face? I know you men 
 would half despise such a triumph; but believe me, we 
 women know more of what is precious in love. There is 
 nothing that should set a person higher in his own esteem; 
 and we women would prize nothing more dearly. " 
 
 "You are very good," he said; "but you cannot make 
 me forget that I was asked in pity and not for love. ' ' 
 
 ' 'I am not so sure of that, ' ' she replied, holding down 
 her head. "Hear me to an end. Monsieur de Beaulieu. 
 I know how you must despise me; I feel you are right to 
 do so; I am too poor a creature to occupy one thought of 
 your mind, although, alas! you must die for me this 
 
THE SIRE DE MALIStROIT'S DOOR 299 
 
 morning. But when I asked you to marry me, indeed, 
 and indeed, it was because I respected and admired you, 
 and loved you with my whole soul, from the very moment 
 that you took my part against my uncle. If you had seen 
 yourself, and how noble you looked, you would pity rather 
 than despise me. And now," she went on, hurriedly 
 checking him with her hand, "although I have laid aside 
 all reserve and told you so much, remember that I know 
 your sentiments towards me already. I would not, believe 
 me, being nobly born, weary you with importunities into 
 consent. I too have a pride of my own: and I declare 
 before the holy mother of God, if you should now go back 
 from your word already given, I would no more ^marry 
 you than I would marry my uncle's groom." 
 
 Denis smiled a little bitterly. 
 
 "It is a small love," he said, "that shies at a little 
 pride." 
 
 She made no answer, although she probably had her 
 own thoughts. 
 
 "Come hither to the window," he said with a sigh. 
 "Here is the dawn." 
 
 And indeed the dawn was already beginning. The 
 hollow of the sky was full of essential daylight, colorless 
 and clean; and the valley underneath was flooded with a 
 gray reflection. A few thin vapors clung in the coves of 
 the forest or lay along the winding course of the river. 
 The scene disengaged a surprising effect of stillness, 
 which was hardly interrupted when the cocks began once 
 more to crow among the steadings. Perhaps the same 
 fellow who had made so horrid a clangor in the darkness 
 not half an hour before, now sent up the merriest cheer 
 to greet the coming day. A little wind went bustling 
 and eddying among the tree-tops underneath the windows. 
 And still the daylight kept flooding insensibly out of the 
 
300 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 east, which was soon to grow incandescent and cast up 
 that red-hot cannon-ball, the rising sun. 
 
 Denis looked out over all this with a bit of a shiver. 
 He had taken her hand, and retained it in his almost 
 unconsciously. 
 
 "Has the day begun already?" she said; and then, 
 illogically enough: "the night has been so long! Alas! 
 what shall we say to my uncle when he returns?" 
 
 "What you will," said Denis, and he pressed her fingers 
 in his. 
 
 She was silent, 
 
 "Blanche," he said, with a swift, uncertain, passionate 
 utterance, "you have seen whether I fear death. You 
 must know well enough that I would as gladly leap out of 
 that window into the empty air as to lay a finger on you 
 without your free and full consent. But if you care for 
 me at all do not let me lose my life in a misapprehension; 
 for I love you better than the whole world ; and though I 
 will die for you blithely, it would be like all the joys of 
 Paradise to live on and spend my life in your service." 
 
 As he stopped speaking, a bell began to ring loudly in 
 the interior of the house; and a clatter of armor in the 
 corridor showed that the retainers were returning to their 
 post, and the two hours were at an end. 
 
 "After all that you have heard?" she whispered, lean- 
 ing towards him with her lips and eyes. 
 
 "I have heard nothing," he replied. 
 
 "The captain's name was Florimond de Champdivers, " 
 she said in his ear. 
 
 "I did not hear it," he answered, taking her supple 
 body in his arms, and covered her wet face with kisses. 
 
 A melodious chirping was audible behind, followed by 
 a beautiful chuckle, and the voice of Messire de Maletroit 
 wished his new nephew a good morning. 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Monsieur Leon Berthelini had a great care of his 
 appearance, and sedulously suited his deportment to the 
 costume of the hour. He affected something Spanish in 
 his air, and something of the bandit, with a flavor of 
 Rembrandt at home. In person he was decidedly small 
 and inclined to be stout; his face was the picture of good 
 humor; his dark eyes, which were very expressive, told 
 of a kind heart, a brisk, merry nature, and the most in- 
 defatigable spirits. If he had worn the clothes of the 
 period you would have set him down for a hitherto un- 
 discovered hybrid between the barber, the innkeeper, and 
 the affable dispensing chemist. But in the outrageous 
 bravery of velvet jacket and flapped hat, with trousers 
 that were more accurately described as fleshings, a white 
 handkerchief cavalierly knotted at his neck, a shock of 
 Olympian curls upon his brow, and his feet shod through 
 all weathers in the slenderest of Moliere shoes — you had 
 but to look at him and you knew you were in the presence 
 of a Great Creature. When he wore an overcoat he scorned 
 to pass the sleeves; a single button held it round his 
 shoulders; it was tossed backwards after the manner of a 
 cloak, and carried with the gait and presence of an Alma- 
 viva. I am of opinion that M. Berthelini was nearing 
 forty. But he had a boy's heart, gloried in his finery, 
 and walked through life like a child in a perpetual dra- 
 matic performance. If he were not Almaviva after all, 
 
302 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 it was not for lack of making believe. And he enjoyed 
 the artist's compensation. If he were not really Alma- 
 viva, he was sometimes just as happy as though he 
 were. 
 
 I have seen him, at moments when he has fancied him- 
 self alone with his Maker, adopt so gay and chivalrous 
 a bearing, and represent his own part with so much 
 warmth and conscience, that the illusion became catch- 
 ing, and I believed implicitly in the Great Creature's 
 pose. 
 
 But, alas! life cannot be entirely conducted on these 
 principles; man cannot live by Almavivery alone; and the 
 Great Creature, having failed upon several theatres, was 
 obliged to step down every evening from his heights, and 
 sing from half-a-dozen to a dozen comic songs, twang a 
 guitar, keep a country audience in good humor, and pre- 
 side finally over the mysteries of a tombola. 
 
 Madame Berthelini, who was art and part with him in 
 these undignified labors, had perhaps a higher position 
 in the scale of beings, and enjoyed a natural dignity of 
 her own. But her heart was not any more rightly placed, 
 for that would have been impossible; and she had acquired 
 a little air of melancholy, attractive enough in its way, 
 but not good to see like the wholesome, sky-scraping, 
 boyish spirits of her lord. 
 
 He, indeed, swam like a kite on a fair wind, high 
 above earthly troubles. Detonations of temper were not 
 unfrequent in the zones he traveled; but sulky fogs and 
 tearful depressions were there alike unknown. A well- 
 delivered blow upon a table, or a noble attitude, imitated 
 from Melingue or Frederic, relieved his irritation like a 
 vengeance. Though the heaven had fallen, if he had 
 played his part with propriety, Berthelini had been con- 
 tent! And the man's atmosphere, if not his example. 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 303 
 
 reacted on his wife; for the couple doted on each other, 
 and although you would have thought they walked in 
 different worlds, yet continued to walk hand in hand. 
 
 It chanced one day that Monsieur and Madame Berthe- 
 lini descended with two boxes and a guitar in a fat case 
 at the station of the little town of Castel-le-Gachis, and 
 the omnibus carried them with their effects to the Hotel 
 of the Black Head. This was a dismal, conventual build- 
 ing in a narrow street, capable of standing siege when 
 once the gates were shut, and smelling [strangely in the 
 interior of straw and chocolate and old feminine apparel. 
 Berthelini paused upon the threshold with a painful pre- 
 monition. In some former state, it seemed to him, he 
 had visited a hostelry that smelt not otherwise, and been 
 ill received. 
 
 The landlord, a tragic person in a large felt hat, rose 
 from a business table under the key-rack, and came for- 
 ward, removing his hat with both hands as he did so. 
 
 "Sir, I salute you. May I inquire what is your charge 
 for artists?" inquired Berthelini, with a courtesy at once 
 splendid and insinuating. 
 
 "For artists?" said the landlord. His countenance fell 
 and the smile of welcome disappeared. "Oh, artists!" he 
 added, brutally; "four francs a day." And he turned his 
 back upon these inconsiderable customers. 
 
 A commercial traveler is received, he also, upon a re- 
 duction — ^yet is he welcome, yet can he command the 
 fatted calf; but an artist, had he the manners of an Alma- 
 viva, were he dressed like Solomon in all his glory, is 
 received like a dog and served like a timid lady traveling 
 alone. 
 
 Accustomed as he was to the rubs of his profession, 
 Berthelini was unpleasantly affected by the landlord's 
 manner. 
 
304 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Elvira, "said he to his wife, "mark my words: Castel- 
 le-Gachis is a tragic folly." 
 
 ' 'Wait till we see what we take, ' ' replied Elvira. 
 
 "We shall take nothing," returned Berthelini; "we 
 shall feed upon insults. I have an eye, Elvira; I have a 
 spirit of divination; and this place is accursed. The 
 landlord has been discourteous, the Commissary will be 
 brutal, the audience will be sordid and uproarious, and 
 you will take a cold upon your throat. We have been 
 besotted enough to come; the die is cast — it will be a 
 second Sedan." 
 
 Sedan was a town hateful to the Berthelinis, not only 
 from patriotism (for they were French, and answered 
 after the flesh to the somewhat homely name of Duval), 
 but because it had been the scene of their most sad re- 
 verses. In that place they had lain three weeks in pawn 
 for their hotel bill, and had it not been for a surprising 
 stroke of fortune they might have been lying there [in 
 pawn until this day. To mention the name of Sedan was 
 for the Berthelinis to dip the brush in earthquake and 
 eclipse. Count Almaviva slouched his hat with a gesture 
 expressive of despair, and even Elvira felt as if ill-fortune 
 had been personally invoked. 
 
 "Let us ask for breakfast," said she, with a woman's 
 tact. 
 
 The Commissary of Police of Castel-le-Gachis was a 
 large red Commissary, pimpled, and subject to a strong 
 cutaneous transpiration. I have repeated the name of his 
 office because he was so very much more a Commissary 
 than a man. The spirit of his dignity had entered into 
 him. He carried his corporation as if it were something 
 official . Whenever he insulted a common citizen it seemed 
 to him as if he were adroitly flattering the Government 
 by a side wind; in default of dignity he was brutal from 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 305 
 
 an over-weening sense of duty. His ofRce was a den, 
 whence passersby could hear rude accents laying down, 
 not the law, but the good pleasure of the Commissary. 
 
 Six several times in the course of the day did M. 
 Berthelini hurry thither in quest of the requisite per- 
 mission for his evening's entertainment; six several times 
 he found the official was abroad. Leon Berthelini began 
 to grow quite a familiar figure in the streets of Castel- 
 le-Gachis; he became a local celebrity, and was pointed 
 out as "the man who was looking for the Commissary." 
 Idle children attached themselves to his footsteps, and 
 trotted after him back and forward between the hotel 
 and the office. Leon might try as he liked; he might roll 
 cigarettes, he might straddle, he might cock his hat at a 
 dozen different jaunty inclinations — the part of Almaviva 
 was, under the circumstances, difficult to play. 
 
 As he passed the market-place upon the seventh excur- 
 sion the Commissary was pointed out to him, where he 
 stood, with his waistcoat unbuttoned and his hands behind 
 his back, to superintend the sale and measurement of 
 butter. Berthelini threaded his way through the market 
 stalls and baskets, and accosted the dignitary with a bow 
 which was a triumph of the histrionic art. 
 
 "I have the honor," he asked, "of meeting M. le Com- 
 missaire?" 
 
 The Commissary was affected by the nobility of his 
 address. He excelled Leon in the depth if not in the 
 airy grace of his salutation. 
 
 "The honor," said he, "is mine!" 
 
 "I am," continued the strolling-player, "I am, sir, an 
 artist, and I have permitted myself to interrupt you on 
 an affair of business. To-night I give a trifling musical 
 entertainment at the Cafe of the Triumphs of the Plough 
 — permit me to offer you this little programme — and 
 
306 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 I have come to ask you for the necessary authoriza- 
 tion." 
 
 At the word "artist," the Commissary had replaced his 
 hat with the air of a person who, having condescended 
 too far, should suddenly remember the duties of his rank. 
 
 "Go, go," said he, "I am busy — I am measuring 
 butter." 
 
 "Heathen Jew!" thought Leon. "Permit me, sir," 
 he resumed, aloud. "I have gone six times already " 
 
 "Put up your bills if you choose," interrupted the 
 Commissary. "In an hour or so I will examine your 
 papers at the office. But now go; I am busy." 
 
 "Measuring butter?" thought Berthelini. "Oh,' France, 
 and it is for this that we made '93!" 
 
 The preparations were soon made; the bills posted, pro- 
 grammes laid on the dinner-table of every hotel in the 
 town, and a stage erected at one end of the Cafe of the 
 Triumphs of the Plough; but when Leon returned to the 
 office, the Commissary was once more abroad. 
 
 " He is like Madame Benoiton, ' ' thought Leon. "Fichu 
 Commissaire!" 
 
 And just then he met the man face to face. 
 
 "Here, sir," said he, "are my papers. Will you be 
 pleased to verify?" 
 
 But the Commissary was now intent upon dinner. 
 
 "No use," he replied, "no use; I am busy; I am quite 
 satisfied. Give your entertainment." 
 
 And he hurried on. 
 
 "Fichu Commissaire!" thought Leon. 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 307 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 The audience was pretty large; and the proprietor of 
 the cafe made a good thing of it in beer. But the Berthe- 
 linis exerted themselves in vain. 
 
 Leon was radiant in velveteen; he had a rakish way of 
 smoking a^ cigarette between his songs that was worth 
 money in itself; he underlined his comic points, so that 
 the dullest numskull in Castel-le-Gachis had a notion 
 when to laugh; and he handled his guitar in a manner 
 worthy of himself. Indeed his play with that instrument 
 was as good as a whole romantic drama; it was so dash- 
 ing, so florid, and so cavalier. 
 
 Elvira, on the other hand, sang her patriotic and ro- 
 mantic songs with more than usual expression; her voice 
 had charm and plangency; and as Leon looked at her, in 
 her low-bodied maroon dress, with her arms bare to the 
 shoulder, and a red flower set provocatively in her corset, 
 he repeated to himself for the many hundredth time that 
 she was one of the loveliest creatures in the world of 
 women. 
 
 Alas ! when she went round with the tambourine, the 
 golden youth of Castel-le-Gachis turned from her coldly. 
 Here and there a single halfpenny was forthcoming; the 
 net result of a collection never exceeded half a franc; 
 and the Maire himself, after seven different applications, 
 had contributed exactly twopence. A certain chill began 
 to settle upon the artists themselves; it seemed as if they 
 were singing to slugs; Apollo himself might have lost 
 heart with such an audience. The Berthelinis struggled 
 against the impression; they put their back into their 
 work, they sang loud and louder, the guitar twanged like 
 a living thing; and at last Leon arose in his might, and 
 
308 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 burst with inimitable conviction into his great song, 
 " Y a des honnStes gens partout ! ' ' Never had he given 
 more proof of his artistic mastery; it was his intimate, 
 indefeasible conviction that Castel-le-Gachis formed an 
 exception to the law he was now lyrically proclaiming, 
 and was peopled exclusively by thieves and bullies; and 
 yet, as I say, he flung it down like a challenge, he trolled 
 it forth like an article of faith; and his face so beamed 
 the while that you would have thought he must make 
 converts of the benches. 
 
 He was at the top of his register, with his head thrown 
 back and his mouth open, when the door was thrown vio- 
 lently open, and a pair of new comers marched noisily 
 into the cafe. It was the Commissary, followed by the 
 Garde ChampStre. 
 
 The undaunted Berthelini still continued to proclaim, 
 "Y a des honnStes gens partout!" But now the sen- 
 timent produced an audible titter among the audience. 
 Berthelini wondered why; he did not know the antecedents 
 of the Garde ChampStre; he had never heard of a little 
 story about postage stamps. But the public knew all 
 about the postage stamps, and enjoyed the coincidence 
 hugely. 
 
 The Commissary planted himself upon a vacant chair 
 with somewhat the air of Cromwell visiting the Rump, 
 and spoke in occasional whispers to the Garde ChampStre, 
 who remained respectfully standing at his back. The 
 eyes of both were directed upon Berthelini, who persisted 
 in his statement. 
 
 "Ya des honnfites gens partout," he was just chanting 
 for the twentieth time; when up got the Commissary upon 
 his feet and waved brutally to the singer with his cane. 
 
 "Is it me you want?" inquired Leon, stopping in his 
 song. 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 309 
 
 "It is you," replied the potentate. 
 
 "Fichu Commissaire!" thought Leon, and he descended 
 from the stage and made his way to the functionary. 
 
 "How does it happen, sir," said the Conimissary, 
 swelling in person, "that I find you mountebanking in a 
 public cafe without my permission?" 
 
 "Without?" cried the indignant Leon. "Permit me 
 to remind you " 
 
 "Come, come, sir!" said the Commissary, "I desire no 
 explanations. ' ' 
 
 "I care nothing about what you desire," returned the 
 singer. "I choose to give them, and I will not be gagged. 
 I am an artist, sir, a distinction that you cannot compre- 
 hend. I received your permission and stand here upon 
 the strength of it; interfere with me who dare." 
 
 "You have not got my signature, I tell you," cried the 
 Commissary. "Show me my signature! Where is my 
 signature?" 
 
 That was just the question; where was his signature? 
 Leon recognized that he was in a hole; but his spirit rose 
 with the occasion, and he blustered nobly, tossing back 
 his curls. The Commissary played up to him in the char- 
 acter of tyrant; and as the one leaned farther forward, the 
 other leaned farther back — majesty confronting fury. 
 The audience had transferred their attention to this new 
 performance, and listened with that silent gravity com- 
 mon to all Frenchmen in the neighborhood of the police- 
 Elvira had sat down, she was used to these distractions, 
 and it was rather melancholy than fear that now op- 
 pressed her. 
 
 "Another word," cried the Commissary, "and I arrest 
 you." 
 
 "Arrest me!" shouted Leon. "I defy you!" 
 
 "I am the Commissary of Police," said the official. 
 
310 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 Leon commanded his feelings, and replied, with great 
 delicacy of innuendo: 
 
 "So it would appear." 
 
 The point was too refined for Castel-le-G^chis; it did 
 nbt raise a smile; and as for the Commissary, he simply 
 bade the singer follow him to his office, and directed his 
 proud footsteps towards the door. There was nothing for 
 it but to obey. Leon did so with a proper pantomime of 
 indifference, but it was a leek to eat, and there was no 
 denying it. 
 
 The Maire had slipped out and was already waiting at 
 the Commissary's door. Now the Maire, in France, is 
 the refuge of the oppressed. He stands between his 
 people and the boisterous rigors of the Police. He can 
 sometimes understand what is said to him; he is not 
 always puffed up beyond measure by his dignity. 'Tis a 
 thing worth the knowledge of travelers. When all seems 
 over, and a man has made up his mind to injustice, he 
 has still, like the heroes of romance, a little bugle at his 
 belt whereon to blow; and the Maire, a comfortable deus 
 ex machina, may still descend to deliver him from the 
 minions of the law. The Maire of Castel-le-Gachis, al- 
 though inaccessible to the charms of music as retailed by 
 the Berthelinis, had no hesitation whatever as to the 
 rights of the matter. He instantly fell foul of the Com- 
 missary in very high terms, and the Commissary, pricked 
 by this humiliation, accepted battle on the point of fact. 
 The argument lasted some little while with varying suc- 
 cess, until at length victory inclined so plainly to the 
 Commissary's side that the Maire was fain to reassert 
 himself by an exercise of authority. He had been out- 
 argued, but he was still the Maire. And so, turning 
 from his interlocutor, he briefly but kindly recommended 
 Leon to go back instanter to his concert. 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 311 
 
 "It is already growing late," he added. 
 
 Leon did not wait to be told twice. He returned to 
 the Cafe of the Triumphs of the Plough with all expedi- 
 tion. Alas! the audience had melted away during his 
 absence; Elvira was sitting in a very disconsolate attitude 
 on the guitar-box; she had watched the company dispers- 
 ing by twos and threes, and the prolonged spectacle had 
 somewhat overwhelmed her spirits. Each man, she re- 
 flected, retired with a certain proportion of her earnings 
 in his pockets, and she saw to-night's board and to- 
 morrow's railway expenses, and finally even to-morrow's 
 dinner, walk one after another out of the cafe door and 
 disappear into the night. 
 
 "What was it?" she asked, languidly. 
 
 But Leon did not answer. He was looking round him on 
 the scene of defeat. Scarce a score of listeners remained, 
 and these of the least promising sort. The minute hand of 
 the clock was already climbing upward towards eleven. 
 
 "It's a lost battle," said he, and then taking up the 
 money-box, he turned it out. "Three francs seventy- 
 five!" he cried, "as against four of board and six of rail- 
 way fares; and no time for the tombola! Elvira, this is 
 Waterloo." And he sat down and passed both hands 
 desperately among his curls. "0 Fichu Commissaire!" 
 he cried, "Fichu Commissaire!" 
 
 "Let us get the things together and be off," returned 
 Elvira. "We might try another song, but there is not 
 six halfpence in the room." 
 
 "Six halfpence?" cried Leon, "six hundred thousand 
 devils! There is not a human creature in the town — 
 nothing but pigs and dogs and commissaries! Pray 
 heaven, we get safe to bed." 
 
 "Don't imagine things!" exclaimed Elvira, with a 
 shudder. 
 
312 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 And with that they set to work on their preparations. 
 The tobacco-jar, the cigarette-holder, the three papers of 
 shirt-studs, which were to have been the prizes of the 
 tombola had the tombola come off, were made into a 
 bundle with the music; the guitar was stowed into the 
 fat guitar-case; and Elvira, having thrown a thin shawl 
 about her neck and shoulders, the pair issued from the 
 cafe and set off for the Black Head. 
 
 As they crossed the market-place the church bell rang 
 out eleven. It was a dark, mild night, and there was no 
 one in the streets. 
 
 "It is all veryfine," said Leon; "but I have a presenti- 
 ment. The night is not yet done. " 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 The "Black Head" presented not a single chinjc of light 
 upon the street, and the carriage gate was closed. 
 
 "This is unprecedented," observed Leon. "An inn 
 closed by five minutes after eleven! And there were 
 several commercial travelers in the cafe up to a late hour. 
 Elvira, my heart misgives me. Let us ring the bell." 
 
 The bell had a potent note; and being swung under the 
 arch it filled the house from top to bottom with surly, 
 clanging reverberations. The sound accentuated the con- 
 ventual appearance of the building; a wintry sentiment, 
 a thought of prayer and mortification, took hold upon 
 Elvira's mind; and as for Leon, he seemed to be reading 
 the stage directions for a lugubrious fifth act. 
 
 "This is your fault," said Elvira: "this is what comes 
 of fancying things!" 
 
 Again Leon pulled the bell-rope; again the solemn toc- 
 sin awoke the echoes of the inn; and ere they had died 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 313 
 
 away, a light glimmered in the carriage entrance, and a 
 powerful voice was heard upraised and tremulous with 
 wrath. 
 
 "What's all this?" cried the tragic host through the 
 spars of the gate. "Hard upon twelve, and you come 
 clamoring like Prussians at the door of a respectable 
 hotel? Oh!"- he cried, "I know you now! Common 
 singers! People in trouble with the police! And you 
 present yourselves at midnight like lords and ladies? Be 
 off with you!" 
 
 "You will permit me to remind you," said Leon, in 
 thrilling tones, "that I am a guest in your house, that I 
 am properly inscribed, and that I have deposited baggage 
 to the value of four hundred francs." 
 
 "You cannot get in at this hour," returned the man. 
 "This is no thieves' tavern, for mohocks and night rakes 
 and organ-grinders." 
 
 "Brute!" cried Elvira, for the organ-grinders touched 
 her home. 
 
 "Then I demand my baggage," said Leon, with un- 
 abated dignity. 
 
 "I know nothing of your baggage," replied the land- 
 lord. 
 
 "You detain my baggage? You dare to detain my 
 baggage?" cried the singer. 
 
 "Who are you?" returned the landlord. "It is dark — I 
 cannot recognize you." 
 
 "Very well, then — ^you detain my baggage," concluded 
 Leon. "You shall smart for this, I will weary out your 
 life with persecutions; I will drag you from court to 
 court; if there is justice to be had in France, it shall be 
 rendered between you and me. And I will make you a 
 by-word — I will put you in a song — a scurrilous song — 
 an indecent song— a popular song — which the boys shall 
 
314 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 sing to you in the street, and come and howl through 
 these spars at midnight!" 
 
 He had gone on raising his voice at every phrase, for 
 all the while the landlord was very placidly retiring; and 
 now, when the last glimmer of light had vanished from 
 the arch, and the last footstep died away in the interior, 
 Leon turned to his wife with a heroic countenance. 
 
 "Elvira," said he, "I have now a duty in life. I shall 
 destroy that man as Eugene Sue destroyed the concierge. 
 Let us come at once to the Cendarmerie and begin our 
 vengeance." 
 
 He picked up the guitar-case, which had been propped 
 against the wall, and they set forth through the silent 
 and ill-lighted town with burning hearts. 
 
 The Gendarmerie was concealed beside the telegraph 
 office at the bottom of a vast court, which was partly laid 
 out in gardens; and here all the shepherds of the public 
 lay locked in grateful sleep. It took a deal of knocking 
 to waken one; and he, when he came at last to the door, 
 could find no other remark but that "it was none of hiis 
 business." Leon reasoned with him, threatened him, 
 besought him. "Here," he said, "was Madame Berthelini 
 in evening dress — a delicate woman — in an [interesting 
 condition" — the last was thrown in, I fancy, for effect; 
 and to all this the man-at-arms made the same answer" 
 
 "It is none of my business," said he. 
 
 "Very well," said Leon, "then we shall go to the Com- 
 missary." Thither they went; the office was closed and 
 dark; but the house was close by, and Leon was soon 
 swinging the bell like a madman. The Commissary's wife 
 appeared at a window. She was a threadpaper creature, 
 and informed them that the Commissary had not yet come 
 home. 
 
 "Is he at the Maire's?" demanded Leon. 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAE 315 
 
 She thought that was not unlikely. 
 
 "Where is the Maire's house?" he asked. 
 
 And she gave him some rather vague information on 
 that point. 
 
 "Stay you here, Elvira," said Leon, "lest I should 
 miss him by the way. If, when I return, I find you here 
 no longer, I shall follow at once to the Black Head." 
 
 And he set out to find the Maire's. It took him some 
 ten minutes wandering among blind lanes, and when he 
 arrived it was already half an hour past midnight. A 
 long white garden wall overhung by some thick chestnuts, 
 a door with a letter-box, and an iron bell-pull, that was 
 all that could be seen of the Maire's domicile. Leon 
 took the bell-pull in both hands, and danced furiously 
 upon the side-walk. The bell itself was just upon the 
 other side of the wall, it responded to his activity, and 
 scattered an alarming clangor far and wide into the 
 night. 
 
 A window was thrown open in a house across the street, 
 and a voice inquired the cause of this untimely uproar. 
 
 "I wish the Maire," said Leon. 
 
 "He has been in bed this hour," returned the voice. 
 
 "He must get up again," retorted Leon, and he was 
 for tackling the bell-pull once more. 
 
 "You will "never make him hear, " responded the voice. 
 "The garden is of great extent, the house is at the farther 
 end, and both the Maire and his housekeeper are deaf." 
 
 "Aha!" said Leon, pausing. "The Maire is deaf, is 
 he? That explains. ' ' And he thought of the evening's 
 concert with a momentary feeling of relief. "Ah!" he 
 continued, "and so the Maire is deaf, and the garden 
 vast, and the house at the far end?" 
 
 "And you might ring all night," added the voice, "and 
 be none the better for it. You would only keep me awake. ' ' ' 
 
316 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Thank you, neighbor, ' ' replied the singer. ' 'You shall 
 sleep." 
 
 And he made off again at his best pace for the Com- 
 missary's. Elvira was still walking to and fro before the 
 door. 
 
 "He has not come?" asked Leon. 
 
 "Not he," she replied. 
 
 "Good," returned Leon. "I am sure our man's inside. 
 Let me see the guitar-case. I shall lay this siege in form, 
 Elvira; I am angry; I am indignant; I am truculently in- 
 clined; but I thank my Maker I have still a sense of fun. 
 The unjust judge shall be importuned in a serenade, 
 Elvira. Set him up — and set him up. " 
 
 He had the case opened by this time, struck a few 
 chords, and fell into an attitude which was irresistibly 
 Spanish. 
 
 "Now," he continued, "feel your voice. Are you 
 ready ? Follow me ! " 
 
 The guitar twanged, and the two voices upraised, in 
 harmony and with a startling loudness, the chorus of a 
 song of old Beranger's: 
 
 " Commissaire ! Commissaire ! 
 Colin bat sa menagere." 
 
 The stones of Castel-le-Gachis thrilled at this auda- 
 cious innovation. Hitherto had the night been sacred to 
 repose and nightcaps; and now what was this? Window 
 after window was opened ; matches scratched, and candles 
 began to flicker; swollen sleepy faces peered forth into 
 the starlight. There were two figures before the Com- 
 missary's house, each bolt upright, with head thrown 
 back and eyes interrogating the starry heavens; the guitar 
 wailed, shouted, and reverberated like half an orchestra; 
 and the voices, with a crisp and spirited delivery, hurled 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 317 
 
 the appropriate burden at the Commissary's window. All 
 the echoes repeated the functionary's name. It was more 
 like an entr'acte in a farce of Moliere's than a passage of 
 real life in Castel-le-Gachis. 
 
 The Commissary, if he was not the first, was not the 
 last of the neighbors to yield to the influence of music, 
 and furiously threw open the window of his bedroom. He 
 was beside himself with rage. He leaned far over the 
 window-sill, raving and gesticulating; the tassel of his 
 white nightcap danced like a thing of life: he opened 
 his mouth to dimensions hitherto unprecedented, and yet 
 his voice, instead of escaping from it in a roar, came 
 forth shrill and choked and tottering. A little more sere- 
 nading, and it was clear he would be better acquainted 
 with the apoplexy. 
 
 I scorn to reproduce his language; he touched upon too 
 many serious topics by the way for a quiet story-teller. 
 Although he was known for a man who was prompt with 
 his tongue, and had a power of strong expression at com- 
 mand, he excelled himself so remarkably this night, that 
 one maiden lady, who had got out of bed like the rest to 
 hear the serenade, was obliged to shut her window at the 
 second clause. Even what she had heard disquieted her 
 conscience; and next day she said she scarcely reckoned 
 as a maiden lady any longer. 
 
 Leon tried to explain his predicament, but he received 
 nothing but threats of arrest by way of answer. 
 
 "If I come down to you!" cried the Commissary. 
 
 "Aye," said Leon, "do!" 
 
 "I will not!" cried the Commissary. 
 
 "You dare not!" answered Leon. 
 
 At that the Commissary closed his window. 
 
 "All is over," said the singer. "The serenade was 
 perhaps ill-judged. These boors have no sense of humor. ' ' 
 
318 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Let US get away from here," said Elvira, with a 
 shiver. ' 'All these people looking — it is so rude and so 
 brutal." And then giving way once more to passion — 
 "Brutes!" she cried aloud to the candle-lit spectators — ■ 
 "brutes! brutes! brutes!" 
 
 "Sauve qui pent," said Leon. "You have done it now!" 
 
 And taking the guitar in one hand and the case in the 
 
 other, he led the way with something too precipitate to 
 
 be merely called precipitation from the scene of this 
 
 absurd adventure. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 To the west of Castel-le-GSchis four rows of venerable 
 lime-trees formed, in this starry night, a twilit avenue 
 with two side aisles of pitch darkness. Here and there 
 benches were disposed between the trunks. There was not 
 a breath of wind; a heavy atmosphere of perfume hung 
 about the alleys; and every leaf stood stock-still upon its 
 twig. Hither, after vainly knocking at an inn or two, 
 the Berthelinis came at length to pass the night. After 
 an amiable contention, Leon insisted on giving his coat 
 to Elvira, and they sat down together on the first bench 
 in silence. Leon made a cigarette, which he smoked to 
 an end, looking up into the trees, and, beyond them, at 
 the constellations, of which he tried vainly to recall the 
 names. The silence was broken by the church bell; it 
 rang the four quarters on a light and tinkling measure; 
 then followed a single deep stroke that died slowly away 
 with a thrill; and stillness resumed its empire. 
 
 "One," said Leon. "Four hours till daylight. It is 
 warm; it is starry; I have matches and tobacco. Do not 
 let us exaggerate, Elvira — the experience is positively 
 charming. I feel a glow within me; I am born again. 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 319 
 
 This is the poetry of life. Think of Cooper's novels, my 
 dear." 
 
 "Leon," she said, fiercely, "how can you talk such 
 wicked, infamous nonsense? To pass all night out of 
 doors — it is like a nightmare! We shall die." 
 
 "You suffer yourself to be led away," he replied, 
 soothingly. "It is not unpleasant here; only you brood. 
 Come, now, let us repeat a scene. Shall we try Alceste 
 and Celimene? No? Or a passage from the 'Two Orphans?' 
 Come, now, it will occupy your mind; I will play up to 
 you as I never have played before; I feel art moving in 
 my bones." 
 
 "Hold your tongue," she cried, "or you will drive me 
 mad! Will nothing solemnize you — not even this hideous 
 situation?" 
 
 "Oh, hideous!" objected Leon. "Hideous is not the 
 word. Why, where would you be? 'Dites, la jeune 
 belle, ou voulez-vouz aller?' " he carolled. "Well, now," 
 he went on, opening the guitar-case, "there's another 
 idea for you — sing. Sing 'Dites, la jeune belle!' It will 
 compose your spirits, Elvira, I am sure." 
 
 And without waiting an answer he began to strum the 
 symphony. The first chords awoke a young man who was 
 lying asleep upon a neighboring bench. 
 
 "Hullo!" cried the young man, "who are you?" 
 
 "Under which king, Bezonian?" declaimed the artist. 
 "Speak or die!" 
 
 Or if it was not exactly that, it was something to much 
 the same purpose from a French tragedy. 
 
 The young man drew near in the twilight. He was a 
 tall, powerful, gentlemanly fellow, with a somewhat puffy 
 face, dressed in a gray tweed suit, with a deer-stalker 
 hat of the same material ; and as he now came forward he 
 carried a knapsack slung upon one arm. 
 
320 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Are you camping out here, too?" he asked, with a 
 strong English accent. "I'm not sorry for company." 
 
 Leon explained their misadventure; and the other told 
 them that he was a Cambridge undergraduate on a walk- 
 ing tour, that he had run short of money, could no longer 
 pay for his night's lodging, had already been camping 
 out for two nights, and feared he should require to con- 
 tinue the same manoeuvre for at least two nights more. 
 
 "Luckily, it's jolly weather," he concluded. 
 
 "You hear that, Elvira," said Leon. "Madame Berthe- 
 lini,"hewent on, "is ridiculously affected by this trifling 
 occurrence. For my part, I find it romantic and far from 
 uncomfortable; or at least," he added, shifting on the 
 stone bench, "not quite so uncomfortable as might have 
 been expected. But pray be seated. " 
 
 "Yes," returned the undergraduate, sitting down, 
 "it's rather nice than otherwise when once you're used 
 to it; only it's devilish difficult to get Washed. I like the 
 fresh air and these stars and things." 
 
 "Aha!" said Leon, "Monsieur is an artist." 
 
 "An artist?" returned the other, with a blank stare. 
 "Not if I know it!" 
 
 "Pardon me," said the actor. "What you said this 
 moment about the orbs of heaven " 
 
 "Oh, nonsense!" cried the Englishman. "A fellow 
 may admire the stars and be an3i;hing he likes." 
 
 "You have an artist's nature, however, Mr. I 
 
 beg your pardon; may I, without indiscretion, inquire 
 your name?" asked Leon. 
 
 "My name is Stubbs," replied the Englishman. 
 
 "I thank you," returned Leon. "Mine is Berthelini — 
 Leon Berthelini, ex-artist of the theatres of Montrouge, 
 Belleville, and Montmartre. Humble as you see me, I 
 have created with applause more than one important rbU. 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAK 321 
 
 The Press were unanimous in praise of my Howling Devil 
 of the Mountains, in the piece of the same name. Madame, 
 whom I now present to you, is herself an artist, and I 
 must not omit to state, a better artist than her husband. 
 She also is a creator; she created nearly twenty successful 
 songs at one of the principal Parisian music-halls. But, 
 to continue, I was saying you had an artist's nature, 
 Monsieur Stubbs, and you must permit me to be a judge 
 in such a question. I trust you will not falsify your in- 
 stincts; let me beseech you to follow the career of an 
 artist. ' ' 
 
 "Thank you," returned Stubbs, with a chuckle. "I'm 
 going to be a banker." 
 
 "No," said Leon, "do not say so. Not that. A man 
 with such a nature as yours should not derogate so far. 
 What are a few privations here and there, so long as you 
 are working for a high and noble goal?" 
 
 "This fellow's mad," thought Stubbs; "but the wom- 
 an's rather pretty, and he's not bad fun for himself, if 
 you come to that." What he said was different. "I 
 thought you said you were an actor?" 
 
 "I certainly did so," replied Leon. "I am one, or, 
 alas! I was." 
 
 "And so you want me to be an actor, do you?" con- 
 tinued the undergraduate. "Why, man, I could never so 
 much as learn the stuff; my memory's like a sieve; and 
 as for acting, I've no more idea than a cat. ' ' 
 
 "The stage is not the only course," said Leon. "Be a 
 sculptor, be a dancer, be a poet or a novelist; follow your 
 heart, in short, and do some thorough work before you 
 die." 
 
 * 'And do you call these things art ? ' ' inquired Stubbs. 
 
 "Why, certainly!" returned Leon. "Are they not all 
 branches?" 
 
322 NEW AEABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 "Oh! I didn't know," replied the Englishman. "I 
 thought an artist meant a fellow who painted." 
 
 The singer stared at him in some surprise. 
 
 "It is the difference of language," he said at last. 
 "This Tower of Babel, when shall we have paid for it? If 
 I could speak English you would follow me more readily." 
 
 "Between you and me, I don't believe I should," re- 
 plied the other. "You seem to have thought a devil of a 
 lot about this business. For my part, I admire the stars, 
 and like to have them shining— it's so cheery — ^but hang 
 me if I had an idea it had anything to do with art! It's 
 not in my line, you see. I'm not intellectual; I have no 
 end of trouble to scrape through my exams., I can tell 
 you! But I'm not a bad sort at bottom," he added, see- 
 ing his interlocutor looked distressed even in the dim 
 starshine, "and I rather like the play, and music, and 
 guitars, and things." 
 
 Leon had a perception that the understanding was in- 
 complete. He changed the subject. 
 
 "And so you travel on foot?" he continued. "How ro- 
 mantic! How courageous! And how are you pleased with 
 my land? How does the scenery affect you among these 
 wild hills of ours?" 
 
 'Well, the fact is," began Stubbs — he was about to say 
 that he didn't care for scenery, which was not at all true, 
 being, on the contrary, only an athletic undergraduate 
 pretension; but he had begun to suspect that Berthelini 
 liked a different sort of meat, and substituted something 
 else — "The fact is, I think it jolly. They told me it was 
 no good up here; even the guide-book said so; but I don't 
 know what they meant. I think it is deuced pretty — 
 upon my word, I do. " 
 
 At this moment, in the most unexpected manner, Elvira 
 burst into tears. 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 323 
 
 "My voice!" she cried. "Leon, if I stay here longer I 
 shall lose my voice!" 
 
 "You shall not stay another moment, "cried the actor. 
 "If I have to beat in a door, if I have to burn the town, 
 I shall find you shelter. '■■ 
 
 With that, he replace'i the guitar, and comforting her 
 with some caresses, draw her arm through his. 
 
 "Monsieur Stubbs, "' said he, taking off his hat, "the 
 reception I offer you is/*ather problematical; but let me 
 beseech you to give usfthe pleasure of your society. You 
 are a little embarrassed for the moment; you must, in- 
 deed, permit me to advance what may be necessary. I 
 ask it as a favor; we must not part so soon after having 
 met so strangely." 
 
 "Oh, come, you know," said Stubbs, "I can't let a 
 fellow like you " And there he paused, feeling some- 
 how or other on a wrong tack. 
 
 "I do not wish to employ menaces," continued Leon, 
 with a smile; "but if you refuse, indeed I shall not take 
 it kindly." 
 
 "I don't quite see my way out of it," thought the un- 
 dergraduate; and then, after a pause, he said, aloud and 
 ungraciously enough, "All righc. I — I'm very much 
 obliged, of course." And he proceeded to follow them, 
 thinking in his heart, ' 'But it's bad form, all the same, 
 to force an obligation on a fellow." 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Leon strode ahead as if he knew exactly where he was 
 going; the sobs of Madame were still faintly audible, 
 and no one uttered a word. A dog barked furiously in a 
 court-yard as they went by; then the church clock struck 
 two, and many domestic clocks followed or preceded it in 
 
324 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 piping tones. And just then B/irthelini spied a light. 
 It burned in a small house on the outskirts of the town, 
 and thither the party now directed their steps. 
 
 "It is always a chance," said dLeon. 
 
 The house in question stood back from the street behind 
 an open space, part garden, part lurnip field; and several 
 outhouses stood forward from eitl er wing at right angles 
 to the front. One of these had rkcently undergone some 
 change. An enormous window, looking towards the north, 
 had been effected in the wall and ijoof , and Leon began to 
 hope it was a studio. 1 
 
 "If it's only a painter," he saio, with a chuckle, "ten 
 to one we get as good a welcome as we want. ' ' 
 
 "I thought painters were principally poor," said 
 Stubbs. 
 
 "Ah," cried Leon, "you do not know the world as I 
 do. The poorer the better for us. " 
 
 And the trio advanced into the turnip field. 
 
 The light was in the ground fioor; as one window was 
 brightly illuminated and two others more faintly, it might 
 be supposed that there was a single lamp in one comer of 
 a large apartment; and a certain tremulousness and tem- 
 porary dwindling showed that a live fire contributed to 
 the effect. The sound of a voice now became audible; 
 and the trespassers paused to listen. It was pitched in a 
 high, angry key, but had still a good, full, and masculine 
 note in it. The utterance was voluble, too voluble even 
 to be quite distinct; a stream of words, rising and falling, 
 with ever and again a phrase thrown out by itself, as if 
 the speaker reckoned on its virtue. 
 
 Suddenly another voice joined in. This time it was a 
 woman's; and if the man's were angry, the woman was 
 incensed to the degree of fury. There was that absolutely 
 blank composure known to suffering males; that colorless 
 
PROVIDENCE AKD THE GUITAR 325 
 
 unnatural speech which shows a spirit accurately balanced 
 between homicide and hysterics; the tone in which the 
 best of women sometimes utter words worse than death 
 to those most dear to them. If Abstract Bones-and- 
 Sepulchre were to be endowed with the gift of speech, 
 thus, and not otherwise, would it discourse. Leon was a 
 brave man, and I fear he was somewhat sceptically given 
 (he had been educated in a Papistical country), but the 
 habit of childhood prevailed, and he crossed himself 
 devoutly. He had met several women in his career. It 
 was obvious that his instinct had not deceived him, for 
 the male voice broke forth instantly in a towering pas- 
 sion. 
 
 The undergraduate, who had not understood the signifi- 
 cance of the woman's contribution, pricked up his ears at 
 the change upon the man. 
 
 "There's going to be a free fight," he opined. 
 
 There was another retort from the woman, still calm 
 but a little higher. 
 
 "Hysterics?" asked Leon of his wife. "Is that the 
 stage direction?" 
 
 "How should I know?" returned Elvira, somewhat 
 tartly. 
 
 "Oh, woman, woman!" said Leon, beginning to open 
 the guitar-ease. "It is one of the burdens of my life, 
 Monsieur Stubbs; they support each other; they always 
 pretend there is no system; they say it's nature. Even 
 Madame Berthelini, who is a dramatic artist!" 
 
 "You are heartless, Leon," said Elvira; "that woman 
 is in trouble. ' ' 
 
 "And the man, my angel?" inquired Berthelini, pass- 
 ing the ribbon of his guitar. ' 'And the man, m' amour?' ' 
 
 "He is a man," she answered. 
 
 "You hear that?" said Leon to Stubbs. "It is not ^oo 
 
326 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 late for you. Mark the intonation. And now," he con- 
 tinued, "what are we to give them?" 
 
 "Are you going to sing?" asked Stubbs. 
 
 "I am a troubadour," replied Leon. "I claim a wel- 
 come by and for my art. If I were a banker could I do 
 as much?" 
 
 "Well, you wouldn't need, you know," answered the 
 undergraduate. 
 
 "Egad," said Leon, "but that's true. Elvira, that 
 is true." 
 
 "Of course it is, ' ' she replied. "Did you not know it?" 
 
 "My dear," answered Leon, impressively, "I know 
 nothing but what is agreeable. Even my knowledge of 
 life is a work of art superiorly composed. But what are 
 we to give them? It should be something appropriate." 
 
 Visions of "Let dogs delight" passed through the un- 
 dergraduate's mind; but it occurred to him that the 
 poetry was English and that he did not know the air. 
 Hence he contributed no suggestion. 
 
 "Something about our houselessness," said Elvira. 
 
 "I have it," cried Leon. And he broke forth into a 
 song of Pierre Dupont's: 
 
 Savez-vous ou gite 
 Mai, ce joli mois? 
 
 Elvira joined in; so did Stubbs, with a good ear and 
 voice, but an imperfect acquaintance with the music. 
 Leon and the guitar were equal to the situation. The 
 actor dispensed his throat-notes with prodigality and en- 
 thusiasm; and, as he looked up to heaven in his heroic 
 way, tossing the black ringlets, it seemed to him that the 
 very stars contributed a dumb applause to his efforts, and 
 the universe lent him its silence for a chorus. That is 
 one of the best features of the heavenly bodies, that they 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 327 
 
 belong to everybody in particular; and a man like Leon, 
 a chronic Endjrmion who managed to get along without 
 encouragement, is always the world's centre for himself. 
 
 He alone — and it is to be noted, he was the worst singer 
 of the three — ^took the music seriously to heart, and 
 judged the serenade from a high artistic point of view. 
 Elvira, on the other hand, was preoccupied about their 
 reception; and, as for Stubbs, he considered the whole 
 affair in the light of a broad joke, 
 
 "Know' you the lair of May, the lovely month?" went 
 the three voices in the turnip-field. 
 
 The inhabitants were plainly fluttered; the light moved 
 to and fro, strengthening in one window, paling in 
 another; and then the door was thrown open, and a man 
 in a blouse appeared on the threshold carrying a lamp. 
 He was a powerful young fellow, with bewildered hair 
 and beard, wearing his neck open; his blouse was stained 
 with oil-colors in a harlequinesque disorder; and there 
 was something rural in the droop and bagginess of his 
 belted trousers. 
 
 From immediately ^behind him, and indeed over his 
 shoulder, a woman's face looked out into the darkness; it 
 was pale and a little weary, although still young; it wore 
 a dwindling, disappearing prettiness, soon to be quite 
 gone, and the expression was both gentle and sour, and 
 reminded one faintly of the taste of certain drugs. For 
 all that, it was not a face to dislike; when the prettiness 
 had vanished, it seemed as if a certain pale beauty might 
 step in to take its place; and as both the mildness and 
 the asperity were characters of youth, it might be hoped 
 that, with years, both would merge into a constant, 
 brave, and not unkindly temper. 
 
 "What is all this?" cried the man. 
 
328 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Leon had his hat in his hand at once. He came forward 
 with his customary grace; it was a moment which would 
 have earned him a round of cheering on the stage. Elvira 
 and Stubbs advanced behind him, like a couple of Ad- 
 metus's sheep following the god Apollo. 
 
 "Sir," said Leon, "the hour is unpardonably late, and 
 our little serenade has the air of an impertinence. Be- 
 lieve me, sir, it is an appeal. Monsieur is an artist, I 
 perceive. We are here three artists benighted and with- 
 out shelter, one a woman — a delicate woman — in evening 
 dress — in an interesting situation. This will not fail to 
 toudi the woman's heart of Madame, whom I perceive 
 indistinctly behind Monsieur her husband, and whose face 
 speaks eloquently of a well-regulated mind. Ah! Mon- 
 sieur, Madame — one generous movement, and you make 
 three people happy! Two or three hours beside your fire 
 — I ask it of Monsieur in the name of Art — I ask it of 
 Madame by the sanctity of womanhood." 
 
 The two, as by a tacit consent, drew back from the 
 door. 
 
 "Come in," said the man. 
 
 "Entrez, Madame," said the woman. 
 
 The door opened directly upon the kitchen of the house, 
 which was to all appearance the only sitting-room. The 
 furniture was both plain and scanty; but there were one 
 or two landscapes on the wall handsomely framed, as if 
 they had already visited the committee-rooms of an exhi- 
 bition and been thence extruded. Leon walked up to the 
 pictures and represented the part of a connoisseur before 
 each in turn, with his usual dramatic insight and force. 
 The master of the house, as if irresistibly attracted, fol- 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 329 
 
 lowed him from canvas to canvas with the lamp. Elvira 
 was led directly to the fire, where she proceeded to warm 
 herself, while Stubbs stood in the middle of the floor and 
 followed the proceedings of Leon with mild astonishment 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "You should see them by daylight, " said the artist. 
 
 "I promise myself that pleasure," said Leon. "You 
 possess, sir, if you will permit me an observation, the 
 art of composition to a T. " 
 
 ' 'You are very good, ' ' returned theother. ' 'But should 
 you not draw nearer to the fire?" 
 
 ' 'With all my heart, ' ' said Leon. 
 
 And the whole party soon gathered at the table over a 
 hasty and not an elegant cold supper, washed down with 
 the least of small wines. Nobody liked the meal, but no- 
 body complained; they put a good face upon it, one and 
 all, and made a great clattering of knives and forks. To 
 see Leon eating a single cold sausage was to see a tri- 
 umph; by the time he had done he had got through as 
 much pantomime as would have sufficed for a baron of 
 beef, and he had the relaxed expression of the over-eaten. 
 
 As Elvira had naturally taken a place by the side of 
 Leon, and Stubbs as naturally, although I believe uncon- 
 sciously, by the side of Elvira, the host and hostess were 
 left together. Yet it was to be noted that they never 
 addressed a word to each other, nor so much as suffered 
 their eyes to meet. The interrupted skirmish still sur- 
 vived in ill feeling; and the instant the guests departed 
 it would break forth again as bitterly as ever. The talk 
 wandered from this to that subject— for with one accord 
 the party had declared it was too late to go to bed; but 
 those two never relaxed towards each other; Goneril and 
 Regan in a sisterly tiff were not more bent on enmity. 
 
 It chanced that Elvira was so much tired by all the 
 
3S0 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 little excitements of the night, that for once she laid aside 
 her company manners, which were both easy and correct, 
 and in the most natural manner in the world leaned her 
 head on Leon's shoulder. At the same time, fatigue 
 suggesting tenderness, she locked the fingers of her right 
 hand into those of her husband's left; and, half -closing 
 her eyes, dozed off into a golden borderland between sleep 
 and waking. But all the time she was not unaware of 
 what was passing, and saw the painter's wife studying 
 her with looks between contempt and envy. 
 
 It occurred to Leon that his constitution demanded the 
 use of some tobacco; and he undid his fingers from Elvira's 
 in order to roll a cigarette. It was gently done, and he 
 took care that his indulgence should in no other way dis- 
 turb his wife's position. But it seemed to catch the eye 
 of the painter's wife with a special significancy. She 
 looked straight before her for an instant, and then, with 
 a swift and stealthy movement, took hold of her husband's 
 hand below the table. Alas! she might have spared her- 
 self the dexterity. For the poor fellow was so overcome 
 by this caress that he stopped with his mouth open in the 
 middle of a word, and by the expression of his face plainly 
 declared to all the company that his thoughts had been 
 diverted into softer channels. 
 
 If it had not been rather amiable, it would have been 
 absurdly droll. His wife at once withdrew her touch; 
 but it was plain she had to exert some force. Thereupon 
 the young man colored and looked for a moment beautiful. 
 
 Leon and Elvira both observed the by-play, and a shock 
 passed from one to the other; for they were inveterate 
 match-makers, especially between those who were already 
 married. 
 
 "I beg your pardon," said Leon, suddenly. "I see no 
 use in pretending. Before we came in here we heard 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 331 
 
 sounds indicating — if I may so express myself — an im- 
 perfect harmony." 
 
 "Sir " began the man. 
 
 But the woman was beforehand. 
 
 "It is quite true," she said. "I see no cause to be 
 ashamed. If my husband is mad I shall at least do my 
 utmost to prevent the consequences. Picture to yourself. 
 Monsieur and Madame," she went on, for she passed 
 Stubbs over, "that this wretched person — a dauber, an 
 incompetent, not fit to be a sign-painter — receives this 
 morning an admirable offer from an uncle — an uncle of 
 my own, my mother's brother, and tenderly beloved — of 
 a clerkship with nearly a hundred and fifty pounds a year, 
 and that he — picture to yourself! — he refuses it! Why? 
 For the sake of Art, he says. Look at his art, I say — 
 look at it! Is it fit to be seen? Ask him — is it fit to be 
 sold? And it is for this. Monsieur and Madame, that he 
 condemns me to the most deplorable existence, without 
 luxuries, without comforts, in a vile suburb of a country 
 town. non!" she cried, "non — ^je ne me tairai pas — 
 c'est plus fort que moi! I take these gentlemen and this 
 lady for judges — is this kind? is it decent? is it manly? 
 Do I not deserve better at his hands after having married 
 him and" — (a visible hitch) — "done everything in the 
 world to please him?" 
 
 I doubt if there were ever a more embarrassed company 
 at a table; everyone looked like a fool; and the husband 
 like the biggest. 
 
 "The art of Monsieur, however," said Elvira, breaking 
 the silence, "is not wanting in distinction." 
 
 "It has this distinction," said the wife, "that nobody 
 will buy it." 
 
 ' 'I should have supposed a clerkship ' ' began Stubbs. 
 
 "Art is Art," swept in Leon. "I salute Art. It is 
 
332 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 the beautiful, the divine; it is the spirit of the world, 
 and the pride of life. But " And the actor paused, 
 
 "A clerkship " began Stubbs. 
 
 "I'll tell you what it is," said the painter. "I am an 
 artist, and as this gentleman says. Art is this and the 
 other; but of course, if my wife is going to make my life 
 a piece of perdition all daylong, I prefer to go and drown 
 myself out of hand." 
 
 "Go!" said his wife. "I should like to see you!" 
 
 "I was going to say," resumed Stubbs, "that a fellow 
 may be a clerk and paint almost as much as he likes. I 
 know a fellow in a bank who makes capital water-color 
 sketches; he even sold one for seven-and-six. " 
 
 To both the women this seemed a plank of safety; each 
 hopefully interrogated the countenance of her lord; even 
 Elvira, an artist herself! — ^but indeed there must be some- 
 thing permanently mercantile in the female nature. The 
 two men exchanged a glance; itwas tragic; not otherwise 
 might two philosophers salute, as at the end of a labori- 
 ous life each recognized that he was still a mystery to 
 his disciples. 
 
 Leon arose. 
 
 "Art is Art," he repeated, sadly. "It is not water- 
 color sketches, nor practising on a piano. It is a life to 
 be lived." 
 
 "And in the meantime people starve!" observed the 
 woman of the house. "If that's a life, it is not one for 
 me." 
 
 "I'll tell you what," burst forth Leon; "you Madame, 
 go into another room and talk it over with my wife; and 
 I'll stay here and talk it over with your husband. It may 
 come to nothing, but let's try. ' ' 
 
 "I am very willing, " replied the young woman; and 
 she proceeded to light a candle. "This way if you 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 333 
 
 please." And she led Elvira upstairs into a bedroom. 
 "The fact is," said she, sitting down, "that my husband 
 cannot paint. ' ' 
 
 "No more can mine act," replied Elvira. 
 
 "I should have thought he could," returned the other; 
 "he seems clever." 
 
 "He is so, and the best of men besides," said Elvira; 
 "but he cannot act." 
 
 "At least he is not a sheer humbug like mine; he can 
 at least sing." 
 
 "You mistake Leon," returned his wife, warmly. "He 
 does not even pretend to sing; he has too fine a taste; he 
 does so for a living. And, believe me, neither of the men 
 are humbugs. They are people with a mission — which 
 they cannot carry out." 
 
 "Humbug or not," replied the other, "you came very 
 near passing the night in the fields; and, for my part, I 
 live in terror of starvation. I should think it was a man's 
 mission to think twice about his wife. But it appears 
 not. Nothing is their mission but to play the fool. 
 Oh!" she broke out, "is it not something dreary to think 
 of that man of mine? If he could only do it, who would 
 care? But no — not he — no more than I can!" 
 
 "Have you any children?" asked Elvira. 
 
 "No; but then I may." 
 
 "Children change so much," said Elvira, with a sigh. 
 
 And just then from the room below there fiew up a 
 sudden snapping cord on the guitar; one followed after 
 another; then the voice of Leon joined in; and there was 
 an air being played and sung that stopped the speech of 
 the two women. ■ The wife of the painter stood like a 
 person transfixed; Elvira, looking into her eyes, could see 
 all manner of beautiful memories and kind thoughts that 
 were passing in and out of her soul with every note; it 
 
334 NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS 
 
 was a piece of her youth that went before her; a green 
 French plain, the smell of apple-flowers, the far and 
 shining ringlets of a river, and the words and presence 
 of love. 
 
 "Leon has hit the nail," thought Elvira to herself, "I 
 wonder how." 
 
 The how was plain enough. Leon has asked the painter 
 if there were no air connected with courtship and pleasant 
 times; and having learned what he wished, and allowed 
 an interval to pass, he had soared forth into 
 
 O mon amante, 
 
 O mon desir 
 
 Sachons cueillir 
 L'heure charmante! 
 
 "Pardon me, Madame," said the painter's wife, "your 
 husband sings admirably well." 
 
 "He sings that with some feeling," replied Elvira, 
 critically, although she was a little moved herself, for the 
 song cut both ways in the upper chamber; but it is as an 
 actor and not as a musician." 
 
 "Life is very sad," said the other; "it so wastes away 
 under one's fingers." 
 
 "I have not found it so," replied Elvira, "I think the 
 good parts of it last and grow greater every day." 
 
 "Frankly how would you advise me?" 
 
 "Frankly I would let my husband do what he wished. 
 He is obviously a very loving painter; you have not yet 
 tried him as a clerk. And you know — if it were only as 
 the possible father of your children — it is as well to keep 
 him at his best." 
 
 "He is an excellent fellow," said the wife. 
 
 They kept it up till sunrise with music and all manner 
 of good-fellowship; and at sunrise, while the sky was still 
 
PROVIDENCE AND THE GUITAR 335 
 
 temperate and clear, they separated on the threshold with 
 a thousand excellent wishes for each other's welfare. 
 Castel-le-GSchis was beginning to send up its smoke 
 against the golden East; and the church bell was ringing 
 six. 
 
 "My guitar is a familiar spirit," said Leon, as he and 
 Elvira took the nearest way toward the inn; "it resusci- 
 tated a Commissary, created an English tourist, and 
 reconciled a man and wife." 
 
 Stubbs, on his part, went off into the morning with 
 reflections of his own. 
 
 "They are all mad," thought he, "all mad — ^but won- 
 derfully decent." 
 
I 1 I I 1 , ! I 1 
 I I 1 I i 
 
 1 
 
 
 m 
 
 111'