proudly. "Let the soldiers sleep, I will keep watch."

Osman gave him a long and searching look, as if he would read the
purpose of his soul; and, strange to say, Mohammed turned his face
aside to avoid his friend's keen eye. Was it only from a sense of
honor and duty that Mohammed undertook the lonely watch? Or did he
hope the clear moonlight would reveal some other beautiful picture
than the golden plateau, and the great shadows thrown upon it by the
palace? When night had fully settled down upon the earth, Mohammed
crept forward in the shadow of the palace, to a large rock which
stood at the entrance of the court-yard; there he concealed himself,
and waited. What was he waiting for? From that point he could
overlook the courtyard, and, by leaning forward, he could also see
the stairway in the rock. Why did he turn his head in that direction
so often? Why did he suddenly shrink back, and why did his heart
tremble as he saw a white figure, illuminated by the moon,
advancing? Mohammed cowered still lower behind the rock.

Probably she did not see him, and supposed the moon and the stars
only had seen her glide softly through the gateway, and into the
court-yard.

The veiled virgin now walks through the court-yard to the iron
railing; kneels down upon the mosaic pavement, and, raising her
hands, whispers softly:

"Father, my beloved father, do you hear your daughter's voice?"
Mohammed bows his head, and listens in breathless suspense, his
heart throbbing wildly.