Lucien outran his father, and quickly overtook Bacri and another man, who was completely enveloped in the folds of a burnous, such as was then, and still is, worn by the Bedouin Arabs.
On hearing the footsteps in pursuit, Bacri and his companion had commenced to run, but perceiving that only two men followed them, they turned and stood in an attitude of defence. He who wore the burnous flung back the hood, and, freeing his sword-arm from its folds, displayed to the astonished gaze of Lucien and Francisco the face and form of Mariano.
“Father!” he exclaimed; “Lucien!”
“Mariano!” cried Francisco, throwing his arms round his younger son and giving him a hearty kiss on each cheek.
“Hist! be quiet,” said Bacri, seizing Francisco by the arm in his powerful grasp and dragging him along.
The interference of the Jew was not a moment too soon, for several soldiers who were patrolling the streets at the time overheard the sound of their voices and hurried towards them.
They ran now, in good earnest, and quickly reached the door of Jacob Mordecai’s house, which Bacri opened with a key, and shut gently after letting his friends pass, so that the soldiers lost sight of them as if by a magical disappearance.
“Your house is plundered,” said Francisco to Bacri, after Jacob Mordecai had conducted them to the skiffa of his dwelling.
“I guessed as much. But how came you to escape?” asked Bacri.
Lucien related the circumstances of their escape, while his father dipped his head in the fountain, for the purpose, as he remarked, of cooling his brains.