ISKANDER EFFENDI. 5 I 



heard most of all the voice of my Christian mother, pray- 

 ing alone, as she was accustomed to pray; for my father 

 forbade her praying with me, and that I believe killed 

 her. Many a time I had wondered whether there was 

 not something in that religion of my gentle mother, and 

 now it came over me with a hitherto unknown force. I 

 knew the Christian story well. Every word of it I had 

 read over and over in former years, for my mother's 

 prayers were not prayers to be overheard and forgotten ; 

 and now, as the sunlight faded above Jerusalem, I re- 

 membered the story of the Passion, and, recalling all its 

 touching mournfulness, I bowed my head. 



" ' Iskander the Jew is sorrowful to-night.' 



" It was my rescuer of the night previous. He was 

 alone, and would pause now but a moment. 



" ' I saw you in the bazaar yesterday,' he said. 



"'But I saw you not.' 



'"You do not recognize a Druse without his head- 

 dress.' 



" I started to my feet. He smiled, and went on 

 quietly. 



" ' You speak English. I heard you when I shot at 

 the scoundrelly Bedouin.' 



" ' And you replied in English.' 



" ' Very true. We will drop the Arabic then, and use 

 the vernacular, especially as we may be overheard. You 

 are an American.' 



" ' How know you that ?' 



"'Because no Englishman could do the Oriental as 

 you have, and more especially because of our last night's 

 experience. I am from New York myself, long ago; 

 you ?' 



" ' From the same city.' 



