THE IllON NAIL. 413 



" At my age I ought to be." 



" Ali-Ahmed 'tis an awful thing to die ! For thee never more will 

 thy rich banks at Bagdad, at Damascus, at Dheli pour forth their 

 treasures no marble sepulchre will enclose thy limbs but the bold 

 vulture will feast upon they flesh. Thy friends, thy family will 

 mourn, yet know not where to find thee ; thy daughter, thy dear 

 Ildiz, will weep for thy return in vain. Ali-Ahmed !" continued the 

 Syrian, raising his voice ; " wouldst thou die like a dog?" 



" God will reward the faithful ! " said the old man, meekly raising 

 his eyes to heaven. 



" Old dotard ! hard of heart !" returned the other with suppressed 

 emotion, " thy blood be on thine own head. Suicide, once more I 

 ask you; give me your daughter ?" 



" Never; thou art infamous !" A gleam of rage shot across the 

 hitherto calm features of the Syrian. He paused an instant. 



" I will do more than take thy life I will add bitterness to death. 

 You make me as a famished tyger, and henceforth away with re- 

 morse : hear me I will seek thy child the fair, the beautiful I 

 will bring her news of her father she will fly to me she is bright 

 as the star whose name she bears she is pure as the dew of heaven 

 that waters the earth. Bright and pure will she be no longer. I will 

 bear her to the desert ! aye, I swear it ! or may I never see the face 

 of the blessed Prophet in Paradise ! ' Ali-Ahmed trembled ; his 

 eyes grew dim with tears. The chord of his heart had been 

 touched. 



" Young man, young man, break not my heart with this cruel 

 threat;" his voice faltered as he spoke; " have pity on my child! 

 O she is beautiful and good ! take my wealth take all all I give 

 it you ; but when I am dead, have mercy on my child!" The old 

 man had fallen at the feet of the Syrian, he clasped his knees, and 

 looked at him imploringly. The stranger stood wrapped in his thick 

 mantle, his face half concealed by his large turban ; but his look was 

 stern and cruel. 



" Pity from me ! mercy from me ! what mercy have I had at thy 

 hands ? have you not turned me from your door spurned me like a 

 dog from your threshold ? Old man without heart, learn that with- 

 out Ildiz I die ! but her / will have living or dead in wedlock or 

 in dishonour. For the sake of your child, for your own peace, I 

 ask you for the last time Ali-Ahmed give me your daughter ? " 

 He took from his belt a roll, in which were all the materials for 

 writing, which he handed to the old man. " Here," he continued, 

 " here is all you require, write what I shall tell you ; I will see to the 

 rest. The moon is clear and bright." The old man passively took 

 the pen ; he seemed resigned to what appeared inevitable. His face 

 was deadly pale, and his hand slightly trembled as he wrote the let- 

 ter which commanded his daughter to marry Ali-Eftendi, nor wait 

 for his return. The Syrian snatched the letter from the old man's 

 hand ; he could not conceal his joy. 



" Ali-Ahmed !" said he, " I am satisfied ; but there is one thing 

 more a trifle which I require of thee. You see this young man," 

 pointing to Zahab, who stood with the patience of an Arab, a silent 



