never marry." And as he spoke, Fate flicked a page of an illustrated
paper, which was but the volume of the Book of Life, and perhaps only a
mother's eyes would have noticed the sudden tightening of the hand upon
the marble of the balustrade as the man looked down into the pictured
beauty of the woman he loved.

And, having read what had been written, he knelt to receive his
mother's blessing.

"To the Tents of Purple and Gold, my darling?" she asked, smiling so
bravely to hide her breaking heart.

"Not just yet, dear; a bit further North first, I think."

"For long?"

"I do not know, dear. Bless me, O my mother."

She blessed him and called to him as he stood at the head of the marble
stairway:

"Come back to me, my son!"

"That, O woman, is in the hands of Allah, who is God."

And he turned and left her, and she, having wept her heart out and her
beautiful eyes dim, took up the illustrated paper which was a volume of
the Book of Life, and turned the pages.

"Ah!" she said. "How beautiful!"