him.

"He sleeps," he said, "in darkness, and must not be awakened."

The attitude of the Emir did indeed convey the idea of profound
repose. One arm, flung across his body, as he lay with his face
half turned to the wall, concealed, with its loose and long
sleeve, the greater part of his face; but the high forehead was
yet visible. Its nerves, which during his waking hours were so
uncommonly active, were now motionless, as if the face had been
composed of dark marble, and his long silken eyelashes closed
over his piercing and hawklike eyes. The open and relaxed hand,
and the deep, regular, and soft breathing, all gave tokens of the
most profound repose. The slumberer formed a singular group
along with the tall forms of the hermit in his shaggy dress of
goat-skins, bearing the lamp, and the knight in his close
leathern coat--the former with an austere expression of ascetic
gloom, the latter with anxious curiosity deeply impressed on his
manly features.

"He sleeps soundly," said the hermit, in the same low tone as
before; and repeating the words, though he had changed the
meaning from that which is literal to a metaphorical sense--"he
sleeps in darkness, but there shall be for him a dayspring.--O
Ilderim, thy waking thoughts are yet as vain and wild as those
which are wheeling their giddy dance through thy sleeping brain;
but the trumpet shall be heard, and the dream shall be
dissolved."

So saying, and making the knight a sign to follow him, the hermit