His earnest and excited manner had driven the old man's losses from his head for the present, and he told him that he had reason to believe that one of the soldiers of their party had lost his life; and his description of his appearance left no doubt on Mahmoud's mind that it was his brother. His head swam, and a faintness at his heart made him reach to the doorway for support, and he sank on the shop-sill, the sweat streaming down his face. The old merchant was moved nearly to tears at witnessing his suffering.
"It is the will of God, O my son!" he said; "have patience: was it not written?"
"There is more written, O my father," said he; "there is vengeance!" and he wiped the cold sweat from his brow; "but tell me everything—tell me all!"
The merchant then told him, that after they were plundered and stripped, an Arab, who had gone in pursuit of the soldiers, had returned with a soldier's horse instead of his own, and carrying his clothes and arms; and that when they started on their return they had passed the body of a horse and man, lying on the plain in the moonlight, with a flock of vultures gorged and slumbering at a little distance, until daylight should enable them to renew their feast.
"Now I remember," he said, "the soldier's name was Mohammed."
Mahmoud's worst fears were confirmed.
"Is it known who the Arab was?" he inquired, with a quivering voice.
"Arabs are like dates," said the merchant, "one like another; but this one was not of the flock; he gave us his name himself; he was the famous Ali el Bezz!"
"I have heard it before," said Mahmoud, as he turned slowly away to dream of vengeance; "but now it is written here"—and he struck his brow—"in fire!"
He returned to his home, and though he wept in private the loss of his brother, he subdued his emotion, when he was obliged to repair to the Palace-guard, and appear among his comrades; but he sat abstracted and taciturn, torturing his brain with plans of vengeance. If Ali had been living in the town, he would have slain him by treachery, or hired assassins; any means seemed excusable to compass his revenge; but how reach him in the Desert; and who would aid him against so redoubtable a foe, who was supposed to possess a charmed life? He felt at last reduced to the painful necessity of waiting until his enemy should venture to the town, when he resolved to hunt him down at any risk. He little knew at the time that his revenge was brought to his own door, and he had only to arise and strike.