A NIGHT WITH THE ARABS. 409 



the limitless plains, or sound of the wild accents of Arab dia- 

 lect, and climbing for hopes among civilized men, that wooed 

 only to deceive, the .tales of that evening fell on my ears like 

 music, and I listened with delight to the varied legends of the 

 mingled cruelty and chivalry, the capricious deeds and the 

 audacity of the seignior of the big head, the lordly sultan of 

 the desert 



Among the different stories that succeeded each other, one 

 after the other, without interruption, I will rehearse one that 

 Alexander Dumas has since written from the dictation of 

 Hamida, my spahi, who enjoys a wondrous memory for such 

 traditionary lore. 



It is a sort of philosophical legend, that I recommend to 

 coquettish young ladies. As Alexander Dumas has carried 

 out the tale in his own beautiful style, I will not mar it by 

 change, but give it as he wrote it. 



" Once upon a time," began the speaker, smoothing down 

 his black beard, and loosing his girdle, "and a hundred years 

 or more before I saw the light of the sun, there lived a maiden 

 in our tribe, that rendered famous the charming name of 

 Aicha. This maiden was very proud, not that she was richer 

 than the other girls of the tribe, for her father had nothing 

 but his tent, his gun, and his horse, but she was beautiful as 

 a shady tree, and from her beauty was born her pride. 



" One day she went out to cut wood in the neighboring 

 forest, and met a lion. Her only weapon was a little hatchet 

 but this was of small moment, for had she been armed like a 

 harnessed knight, she would never have dared to raise a hand 

 before so fierce and majestic an enemy. Her limbs failed 

 her. She tried to call, but her voice sunk to a whisper, and 

 the lion seemed to beckon her to follow him, that he might 

 devour her in some quiet and secret retreat, for the lions are 

 not only gourmands, but great gastronomes. They not only 

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