Miss Hayfa inherited from her parents a beautiful Eastern palace, surrounded by lush groves and broad farmlands, standing on a slope that overlooks the plain of the Bekaa. As for Hayfa, the lady of the palace, she had shrunk into herself and lived in isolation from people, and rarely was she seen to leave the halls of the palace or go to visit a friend. The inhabi-tants of that district wondered at this lady's withdrawal, and they would ask what reason had led her to bolt the doors of her palace in their faces, repeating the question: why has the lady of the palace closed her heart against brothers of hers, bound to her by the ties of race, religion, and language?!

And Miss Hayfa lived a prey to pain and sorrow. Her parents had died fifteen years before, leaving her alone in this world. What deepened her weariness of life was that she had not succeeded in marrying a bank manager who had courted her, for he left her and married one of her companions. These two signal events led her to adopt this policy of seclusion.

Circumstances willed that a party of young men and girls, numbering nearly twenty, should pass close by that palace. They were riding in a carriage drawn by horses, and had come to that district to look upon the natural scenery and refresh themselves from the toil of daily work. The sight of that beautiful palace and the fresh gardens surrounding it soon drew them in.

So they came near the palace and began to drink in the charm of nature and its captivating beauty

in that lovely spot. And while they were delighting and rejoic-ing in their pleasant excursion, behold — a great motor truck, driven by a reckless man, struck their carriage, smashing it to pieces and inflicting grave wounds on its passengers. The driver at once took to flight, leaving his victims on the roadside. As for the two horses that had been drawing the carriage, they broke loose and went on their way, making for the stable, while the young men and girls lay scattered on the ground, bleeding and moaning from their wounds.

The palace stood close by them, but its doors were bolted. Now it happened that the two horses reached the inn from which they had been taken, and the innkeeper understood, from the marks of injury and exhaustion, that some accident had befallen the carriage. He rose at once, gathering his helpers and sum-moning the district doctor to aid the wounded. This party followed the trail of the two runaway horses until the search ended at the scene of the accident. Straightway the doctor rolled up his sleeves and set about his humane work with surpassing zeal. It seemed to him necessary to move many of them to the hos-pital — but how could he, when the distance was far and there were no automobiles to be had?

The idea came to the doctor to knock at the doors of the palace and ask help of its inhabitants. He was new to that district, and knew nothing of the ways of the people of the palace. He knocked at the door, and one of the maidservants looked out at him.

He said to her: “A collision has occurred near your palace, and we are going to bring the injured to be treated in your rooms.” The maid did not know what to answer, but the doctor gave her no time; he said: “You do not want these wounded to die. I need water, soap, blankets, and bandages. This is a grave emer-gency; the matter is urgent, and there is no room for deliberation or hesitation.”

And the voice of the lady of the palace was heard from within, saying: “If the case is grave, then we cannot bolt our doors in the face of those who seek help. Let the doctor bring in his patient.” But the doctor said: “I have more than one patient, and we shall have to turn this palace into a hospital.” And the doctor brought his wounded into the rooms of the palace and set about stitching the wounds and dressing them. Then he hurried to the telephone to ask the hospital for certain necessary instruments. He made use of every means he had, setting everyone around him to do his share of the relief work. His glance happened to fall on the lady of the palace, and he saw her standing dazed, doing nothing. He said to her: “Bring hot water and wash the faces of the wounded.” One of the maids whispered in his ear that the person he was addressing was the lady of the palace! He said: “Has that lady no hands?! We need every hand.” And the lady of the palace kept stealing glances at the doctor, taken with his ardor and his energy at work. In the face of his zeal, and of the need, she could do nothing but answer the humane duty and do what the doctor wished. And this was a happy beginning, for it opened the doors of her closed heart, and with that the bolted doors of the palace were opened; and that isolated palace was soon transformed into a center of glorious humanitarian work.

And the lady of the palace began to move about among the wounded, and the doctor caught sight of her consoling a girl who