"O mother! but tell me how!"
"Listen—it is now seven years since that an Arab prisoner fell into the Sultan's power. Through my husband's assistance (God rest him!), he was enabled to make his escape; my husband also redeemed his favourite black horse, which had been given to a common soldier, and without which he refused to escape. It was in the cool morning, before the sun had risen, when my husband guided the Sheik out of the town gates, where he found his steed ready saddled for flight. The Arab, free, and once more possessing his favourite, was moved nearly to tears. My husband told me that the horse recognised his master, and that their meeting was like the meeting of two sons of Adam. The Arab then took my husband by the hand, and thus addressed him: 'O friend, you have known me as a helpless prisoner; my faith was not your faith, yet have you conferred on me benefits which I should have looked for in vain from these Moors, who call themselves Moslem. O friend! know me now as Hamed Ibn Ishem, Chief of the Woled Abou Sebah. Gold cannot repay the obligations conferred on my father's son, but gold you shall have. But you are a Jew, and here, are ever subject to danger and persecution, and evil days may come, (which God avert!) when my assistance may be of service to you. Therefore, you shall take a Pledge of me, that all the tribes may know that we are brothers, and that the peace of God is between us.' He then took this pouch, embroidered with his name, from his belt, and put in it a lock of hair cut from his horse's mane. 'Wherever you show this, every Arab will obey you. If you are oppressed, fly with your family to the shadow of my tent:—if in danger, send to me for assistance; and as my faith has not prevented you from aiding me in my distress, I swear, by the God of Ishmael, that nothing shall prevent my redeeming this pledge at the risk of my life! Peace be with you!' and, pressing my husband's hand, he sprang into the saddle, and was soon lost to sight in the morning mist. The Sheik sent us gold, but my husband's beneficent spirit would not allow him to enrich himself while there were poor to be relieved, and this pledge was almost forgotten, until to-day it came on my sight like a messenger from heaven. The hour of peril is come. Take it, my son—seek out the Sheik—he will redeem his pledge; many of our people live in their tents, and peradventure I and my child may escape to the wilderness, even as wandering birds cast out of the nest. Oh, let not to-morrow's sun see thee within ten hours' journey of this accursed city."
Yusuf had listened to this narrative with the deepest interest, but his mind did not jump so readily at the conclusion of the sanguine Rachel.
"This is sudden," he said, "and should I find the Sheik, he may deny his pledge after so long a time."
"Impossible!" interrupted Rachel; "an Arab will not refuse aid to an ordinary claimant, who seeks hospitality in his tent. How can a Chief deny his pledge? If it were possible, he would be shamed and outcast from his tribe! But he will not!"
"I hope your confidence is well founded, but if anything happened to Azora before my return? O mother, I must see her first."
"No, my son," said Rachel, solemnly, "no!—not as you value her life. But delay not, every hour—nay, every minute is precious."
"Well, mother, I obey you; but you must see Azora, and tell her of my ceaseless devotion; and oh, entreat her not to be rash, but to gain time as long as possible. Pray for me on this perilous journey, and bless me, O my mother."
"God bless thee, my son, even the God of Israel bless thee, and prosper thee in the way, and bring thee back again in safety."
They embraced each other affectionately; and Yusuf, putting away the pouch safely in his bosom, returned to his own house, with a sad heart, to make a few necessary preparations for his sudden journey. These completed, he left word that he should be absent for some days on a trading expedition, and, mounting his mule, in less than an hour was wending his way through the suburbs of the town, absorbed in grief, but urged on by dread lest the fate of his betrothed should be decided before his return.