way, beneath a sky peculiar to Arabia--purple at night, white and
terrible in its heat at noon, yet ever strange, weird and impressive.

But one incident worth recounting occurred on the way. Yusuf, Amzi, and
the boy Dumah had been traveling side by side for some time. The way, at
that particular spot, led over a plain which afforded comparatively easy
traveling, and thus gave a better opportunity for conversation. The talk
had turned upon the Guebre worship, and the priest was amazed at the
knowledge shown by Amzi of a religion so little known in Arabia.

"I can tell you more than that," said Amzi in a low tone. "I can tell
you that you are not only Yusuf the Persian gentleman of leisure, but
Yusuf the Magian priest, accustomed to feed the sacred fire in the
Temple of Jupiter. Is it not so? Did not Yusuf's hand even take the
blood of Imri the infant daughter of Uzza in sacrifice? Can Yusuf the
Persian traveler deny that?"

Yusuf's head sank; his face crimsoned with pain, and the veins swelled
like cords on his brow.

"Alas, Amzi, it is but too true!" he said. "Yet, upon the most sacred
oath that a Persian can swear, I did it thinking that the blessing of
the gods would thus be invoked. The rite is one not unknown among the
Sabæans of to-day, and common even among the Magians of the past. Amzi,
it was in my days of heathendom that I did it, thinking it a duty to
Heaven. It was Yusuf the priest who did it, not Yusuf the man; yet Yusuf
the man bears the torture of it in his bosom, and seeks forgiveness for
the blackest spot in his life! How knew you this, Amzi?--if the question
be an honorable one."