At sunrise they paused to refresh themselves beside a scanty well, surrounded by a few palm-trees. One of the young Arabs climbed a tree, and looked in every direction, but not a horseman was to be seen.
“We have outstripped pursuit,” said the Bedouins; “whither shall we conduct thee? Where is thy home and the land of thy people?”
“Home have I none!” replied Abderahman, mournfully, “nor family, nor kindred! My native land is to me a land of destruction, and my people seek my life!”
The hearts of the youthful Bedouins were touched with compassion at these words, and they marveled that one so young and gentle should have suffered such great sorrow and persecution.
Abderahman sat by the well and mused for a time. At length, breaking silence, “In the midst of Mauritania,” said he, “dwells the tribe of Zeneta. My mother was of that tribe; and perhaps when her son presents himself, a persecuted wanderer, at their door, they will not turn him from the threshold.”
“The Zenetes,” replied the Bedouins, “are among the bravest and most hospitable of the people of Africa. Never did the unfortunate seek refuge among them in vain, nor was the stranger repulsed from their door.” So they mounted their steeds with renewed spirits, and journeyed with all speed to Tahart, the capital of the Zenetes.
When Abderahman entered the place, followed by his six rustic Arabs, all wayworn and travel-stained, his noble and majestic demeanor shone through the simple garb of a Bedouin. A crowd gathered around him, as he alighted from his weary steed. Confiding in the well known character of the tribe, he no longer attempted concealment.
“You behold before you,” said he, “one of the proscribed house of Omeya. I am that Abderahman upon whose head a price has been set, and who has been driven from land to land. I come to you as my kindred. My mother was of your tribe, and she told me with her dying breath that in all time of need I would find a home and friends among the Zenetes.”
The words of Abderahman went straight to the hearts of his hearers. They pitied his youth and his great misfortunes, while they were charmed by his frankness, and by the manly graces of his person. The tribe was of a bold and generous spirit, and not to be awed by the frown of power. “Evil be upon us and upon our children,” said they, “if we deceive the trust thou hast placed in us!”
Then one of the noblest Xeques took Abderahman to his house, and treated him as his own child; and the principal people of the tribe strove who most should cherish him, and do him honor; endeavoring to obliterate by their kindness the recollection of his past misfortunes.