‘’Tis the letter of the second Cabala,’ said Issachar, the son of Selim.
And at this moment entered the chamber a faithful slave, who made signs to the physician, upon which Issachar rose, and was soon engaged in earnest conversation with him who had entered, Hillel tending the side of Besso. After a few minutes, Issachar approached the couch of his patient, and said, ‘Here is one, my lord and friend, who brings good tidings of your daughter.’
‘God of my fathers!’ exclaimed Besso, passionately, and springing up.
‘Still, we must be calm,’ said Issachar; ‘still, we must be calm.’
‘Let me see him,’ said Besso.
‘It is one you know, and know well,’ said Issachar. ‘It is the Emir Fakredeen.’
‘The son of my heart,’ said Besso, ‘who brings me news that is honey in my mouth.’
‘I am here, my father of fathers,’ said Fakredeen, gliding to the side of the couch.
Besso grasped his hand, and looked at him earnestly in the face. ‘Speak of Eva,’ he at length said, in a voice of choking agitation.
‘She is well, she is safe. Yes, I have saved her,’ said Fakredeen, burying his face in the pillow, exhausted by emotion. ‘Yes, I have not lived in vain.’ ‘Your flag shall wave on a thousand castles,’ said Besso. ‘My child is saved, and she is saved by the brother of her heart. Entirely has the God of our fathers guarded over us. Henceforth, my Fakredeen, you have only to wish: we are the same.’ And Besso sank down almost insensible; then he made a vain effort to rise again, murmuring ‘Eva!’