IN the continual quarrels which sub`sisted between the Arabs of the Desert, and the Motsallam of Jerusalem, the people of the latter surprised and made prisoner, near the valley of Begâa, a young cheykh who had already distinguished himself by his valorous achievements. He was named Ismayl, the son of Ahmed, the son of Bahir: his father was chief of the tribe of Ouahydych, one of the most considerable of Barr el Châm.* Ismayl defended himself with the courage of the lions he had so often attacked in the sands of Mâan and Karac. Being desperately wounded, it was not without great difficulty that he was transported to Jerusalem, where he was lodged, with his head resting on a column, in the court of the Governor's Palace. The paleness of death overspread his sunburnt visage, without changing the masculine and dignified beauty of his features his stiff and chilled limbs, however, seemed to announce that he who was the rampart of the Desert, and the terror of Syria, would soon yield up the ghost. But his blood still flowed; and what pity denied, was inspired by a sordid interest. The motsallam, expecting a considerable ransom for the only son of the cheykh of the Quahydych, ordered the drogoman of the convent of the Holy Land, who had the reputation of a skilful physician, to be called. "Hakim,"+ said he to him," seeing that thou hast received from heaven the gift of curing men, and that my people see in thee a second Averroès, I will confide to thee this prisoner, if thou thinkest that thou canst save his life: let him be conveyed to thy dwelling. Swear that thou wilt bring this slave into my presence on the twentieth day of the noon of schowal: if thou failest, if he escape thy vigilance, the treason be on thy head. The half of his ransom shall be the reward of this service."

The drogoman bowed his head, ex

* Syria.

amined the wounds of the young cheykh, and, after laying his hand successively on his breast, on his beard, and on his forehead, said, "My Lord, what thou hast commanded shall be done: deliver up to me this slave, and I will endeavour to restore him to thee worth all the ransom which thy justice has a right to expect."

The expiring youth was conveyed to the house of the drogoman, who was named Youhannâ ebn-Temyn. The fire of charity warmed the heart of this Christian man he dwelt near the gate of St. Stephen, on the via dolorosa, and the garden of his house was formed on the ruins of one of the walls of the piscina probatica, to the bottom of which it descended.

Maryam, the most beautiful of the daughters of Palestine, heard the sounds of redoubled blows: having discerned the voice of Ebn-Temyn, her father, she opened the door, which was barricaded like those of all the Christians of Jerusalem, and was not a little surprised at seeing him enter with the inanimate body of the young cheykh. "My daughter," said the drogoman, "I bring to thee one in affliction ;" and thenceforth compassion was depicted on the celestial countenance of Maryam. "He is of the most formidable chiefs of those Bedouins, the son of Ahmed, the cheykh of the Ouahydyeh." ." What! so young," said she; "and is it he who made himself so terrible to the Bethlehemites! O my father, let us pardon him: bring to thy remembrance the history of the Samaritan. If thy art could save this unfortunate youth !"— "Haste, run!" replied to her Ebn-Temyn, "bring the balm of zaggoum, and stripes of linen."

With hasty steps she departed. Ismayl was laid on the plain divan of the drogoman. Maryam got ready the folded linen: on her knees, she supported in her arms the drooping head of the youth, and waited impatiently

Doctor. Physician.

the opinion her father was about to form of the state of Ismayl. Alas! a sigh, perhaps the latest, is ready to escape his lips: the strong throbs which heave the bosom of the young virgin do not rekindle in his bosom the torch of life. Maryam watches the slightest movement, the smallest spark: she sees for the first time a man-a stranger she contemplates with an ardent pity the closed eyes of the Bedouin, whose long black lids cast their shadow on his wan cheeks. On the breast of Ismayl a deep wound has been inflicted; Ebn-Temyn thinks it mortal: Maryam shudders, and presses to hers the sad burden she supports. One of her hands holds what has been prepared to quench the blood which flows abundantly on the sash and unfolded turban of the Bedouin. Her tears, which she cannot wipe away, bathe the brow of the young man: this potent balm might have awakened him from the last sleep; he opens his eyes, and fixing them stedfastly on this ravishing beauty, in the delirium of the fever which consumes him, "Mahomet," he exclaims, "am I at length in thy divine Paradise !”. . .

Virgin, mother of the true God," cries Maryam, "he is still alive! blessed be thy name help this poor infidel, for without thee our endavours will be vain." During the time of his long confinement, Ebn-Temyn and his daughter did not quit the son of Ahmed for an instant. He saw almost unceasingly, by day and by night, the expression of the softest pity embellish the features of Maryam: words of kindness afforded the hope of a better destiny to this ardent youth, whose ignominious bonds galled him more sorely than the sufferings he endured.

In the mean time Ismayl recovered strength, and his heart paid back with interest the debt of his life. His soul was filled with love and gratitude. As soon as he was able to walk Maryam led him beneath the sycamore the branches of which overshadowed the house and garden of Ebn-Temyn : seated side by side, it was her delight to call on him to relate the wars of his tribe, the revenge taken by the Ouahydyeh on the perfidious Gezzar, the 38 ATHENEUM VOL. 11.

particulars of his family, and his pleasures in the Desert. The evening surprised them in the midst of these long and agreeable reveries, from which they were at length roused by the voice of the mouezzin, who, from the lofty minaret of the rich mosque of El-Harem, called the mussulmans to prayers.

"Maryam," said the Arab to her, "thou makest me forget my father, the Prophet, and my tribe. Within these gloomy and high walls which shut out the light of heaven, thy eyes are become the only stars I wish to follow. Either will my bones become light ashes, to be the sport of the wind of yamyn, or I will plant for thee the nuptial tent in the desert: my father and mother will leap for joy at thy sight; all the Quahydyeh will kiss the skirt of the robe of Ebn-Temyn; and the girls of the gabyleh will contend for the honor of washing the dust from thy feet." Maryam, confused and moved to pity, replied to him that she was a Christian-that every thing in this life separated them. "Death,alas!" she added,with a sad presentiment," will perhaps be more just."

In the interim, the pacha of Damascus, covetting the treasures of the motsallam of Jerusalem, called him to his divan, and reproached him with his extortions: his head fell by the stroke of the cimeter; and those eyes, a single glance from which would, the evening before, have terrified all Judea, became dim. A favourite of the pacha was appointed governor of Jerusalem: being desirous to repay the favour his patron had conferred on him by an acceptable present, he levied contributions, as well on the convent of the Holy Sepulchre, as on those of the Armenians and Greeks: twenty of the richest Jews sunk under the merciless blows of the staffs of the chiaoux. Grief and consternation prevailed throughout the whole city of Jerusalem. "Listen, son of Ahmed," said the drogoman to the cheykh confided to his care: "bound by a sacred oath towards the last motsallam, I have not made any promise to his successor: if thy strength will enable thee, profit by the confusion which prevails in the city; go out to morrow at sunset, by the gate

est noise might betray them: Is mayl knew for the first time what fear is. They hastened their steps: Maryam, accustomed to the sedentary life of the females of the East, found it difficult to follow her friend: he carried her in his arms. The minaret of Bethania was at length in sight: now it was that the son of Ahmed persuaded himself that he was master of the destiny of Maryam, who was still engaged in offering up thanks to heaven when they came to the ruins. They hastened to make the signal which had been agreed on; but it was not answered: all was hushed; the night was dark; and the guide and the camel missing. Ismayl repeated the signal; he searched in vain, for nought was to be seen: the ninth hour was certainly passed. What was to be done? How travel over sixty miles of dreary and rugged roads, without help, and without provisions, to have to find at the end of this journey, moving sands scorched by the sun. What obstacles will not love surmount! Ismayl had not any difficulty in persuading Maryam that they ought to proceed. "I know," said he, "a spring midway between this and the land occupied by my tribe: near the fountain we shall find datetrees the fruit of which will nourish thee. I will carry thee: it will require two days only to accomplish this journey; and if thy strength should fail thee, I will press thee to my bosom to

restore it."

A pure and sacred love inwrapped them in its virginal robe: it tempered the ardour of their souls, where reigned a holy confidence-the tender and religious charm of a first love. Maryam readily believed what Ismayl said to her they hastened to quit these solitary ruins it was their wish to take advantage of the coolness of the night, to accomplish a small portion of their journey with less fatigue. Vain hope! Maryam was already exhausted by fatigue: her tender feet were lacerated by the thorns. Ismayl saw her efforts and her sufferings, and his heart was broken. He took her in his arms, and carried her for a long time; but he advanced slowly in treading on the sharp flints which his feet buried in the sand.

The rising sun displayed to their view the desert :—an immense plain of sand, reddened by its earliest rays, without a tree and without shelter. But this sight, far from dismaying Ismayl, gave him new courage: to him the Desert was the country and the image of liberty. "O! Maryam," said he, "be of good cheer: before the end of this day we shall reach the fountain of Engaddi, and to-morrow we shall be with my father. Maryam, somewhat encouraged by these words, tried to conceal her sufferings: she attempted to walk, leaning on Ismayl; but her paleness soon betrayed her, and she was near fainting when he again took her in his arms. Towards the close of this long journey, the Arab not yet fully recovered from the effect of his wound, also became weak, and still the tops of the palms of Engaddi were scarcely perceptible at the horizon it appeared impossible to reach them before the hour of darkness should set in; but Maryam languished: the thirst that consumed her scarcely allowed her to articulate one word. "Twas for him that she was dying! This recollection inspired the Bedouin with new courage: he walked, stopped, and walked again. The fear of losing the object of his adoration, diffused over his forehead a cold sweat: trembling, panting for breath, he pressed his treasure against his anxious bosom: yet a few steps, and they will reach the fountain so ardently desired. They reached it at length, both of them ready to sink; and each, deprived of motion, lay stretched on the sand.

Ismayl rose, however, and dragged his wearied steps to the cistern: he took water in the palms of his hands, and moistened with it the lips of Maryam; she slowly opened her eyes bedewed with tears, which a feeble smile tried vainly to disguise. Anxious about the condition of Ismayl, all her thoughts were concentrated in him. "Alas!" said the young girl, "without me thou wouldst not have been thus dying, and exhausted with fatigue." She accused herself; and, while she lamented him she loved, tried to find, even in her sacrifices, the occasion of her own blame.