"I give you joy, Sheik Ilderim, that you have such servants as these.
See," he continued, dismounting and going to the horses, "see, the gloss of their red coats is without spot; they breathe lightly as when I began.

I give thee great joy, and it will go hard if"-- he turned his flashing eyes upon the old man's face--"if we have not the victory and our--" He stopped, colored, bowed.

At the sheik's side he observed, for the first time, Balthasar, leaning upon his staff, and two women closely veiled.

At one of the latter he looked a second time, saying to himself, with a flutter about his heart, "'Tis she--'tis the Egyptian!" Ilderim picked up his broken sentence-- "The victory, and our revenge!" Then he said aloud, "I am not afraid; I am glad.

Son of Arrius, thou art the man.