"Wait a moment, then," said Alischar. And with that he went out, taking care to lock the door behind him. He soon returned with roast meat, pastry, honey, a water-melon, and some bread, upon a tray.

"Oh!" cried the Giaour, when he saw him returning so, "this is too much. Ten men might dine on this, and here am I alone before it all, unless you would do me the honour to sit with me."

"Eat alone," said Alischar harshly.

But by-and-bye the guest takes the water-melon, and divides it very neatly into two parts, contriving by dexterous management of the knife to besmear the one of these with a strong tincture of nepenthe of Crete and opium, enough to have put an elephant to sleep.

"Pray," said the Infidel, holding the medicated half towards Alischar, "accept this beautiful slice of melon at the hands of your servant."

Alischar could not be so rude as to refuse this: he ate the fruit, and in a moment the fatal effects of it were apparent, for he sank into utter oblivion, losing all his senses at once.

The Giaour rises softly the moment he perceives this, locks the door, and putting the key of the house in his pocket, runs with all speed to inform his brother of the success of his treachery. This was the old Beschadeddin, our acquaintance, who, though he pretended to be a Mussulman, had always remained an Infidel. It was he who had excited his brother to all this knavery, in order that he himself might if possible gain possession of Smaragdine. He now took his people with him, provided himself with gold, mounted his mule, and repaired directly to Alischar's habitation. His slaves seized Smaragdine by force, threatening her with instant death if she dared to utter a single cry, and so conveyed her in safety to the house of their master.

"Ah, wretch!" says the old reprobate, "have I got you at last into my hands? I swear to you, that if you do not consent to renounce Mahomet I will make minced meat of you forthwith."

"Hack me and hew me into a thousand shreds, if such be your pleasure," answers she; "but know, wretch of wretches! that a Moslem I am, and a Moslem I will die. Allah chastises those He best loves with difficulties and dangers, and upon Him alone I set all my trust."

Upon this the wretched ancient gave orders to his female slaves to prick Smaragdine's flesh with pins, and then to tie her up in the corner of the kitchen, but on no account to give her a morsel to eat. But even this last blow had no effect on Smaragdine, who merely exclaimed as she had been doing before,