flowers. Do you remember how you complained, while we were sitting
on the rock looking at the sea, that we had only this poor little
hut, and no garden and no field? I said to myself, 'I'll get them
for her.' And, mother, you shall have all the rest besides. Now you
have fruits and flowers, but, if Allah is gracious, you shall soon
have your own garden and your own house, handsomer than all the
houses of Cavalla. I will build my mother a palace; she shall have
slaves and servants; all shall bow down before her as before their
mistress; none shall rule over her but Allah and the prophet."

The mother gazed in wonder at her son's excited countenance; he
seemed to her at this moment not a child, but a man, a hero.

"Yes," she murmured to herself," he will make what he says come
true: all that the dream announced and the prophetess foretold."

"What is that you are saying, mother?" asked he. "What was that
dream, what did the prophetess foretell?"

She gently shook her head. "It will not be well to tell you, my son.
Your heart is bold and passionate. And yet," she continued, after a
moment, "it may be well that you should know it; for to the daring
belongs the world, and Allah blesses those who have a passionate and
earnest heart. Sit down at my side, my son, and you shall know all."

"Speak, mother, speak--I am listening. How was the dream?"

"It was more than twelve years ago," said the mother, thoughtfully.
"At that time I was a young married woman, and was beautiful--so the
people said--for I was so poor that I could not even buy myself a