drink the traditional coffee, and then the guests began to take their leave. As Haifa was about to depart, the Minister detained her a moment, and she went with him to the eastern veranda of the house. The bare Mount Qasioun lay on their left and Damascus of the Ghouta on their right, and before them Syria's radiant full moon sent its silver rays down upon the city, lighting the countless minarets and domes, illuminating the paved streets and the many-colored buildings; and the quarters of the city, old and new alike, glittered and blended in a sea that joined green with blue.

A narghile was brought for the Minister. Drawing puffs from the narghile that set the water swirling and rumbling in its orna-mented bowl, he said, addressing Haifa: "It seems that our friend Mansour Bey, the governor of Aleppo, is a partisan of the doctrine of love at first sight, and he has therefore deputed me to ask you whether you would consent to be his partner in life." And the Minister cast a searching glance at her.

Haifa fell silent, astounded, and pressed together her crim-son-tinted lips without uttering a word. She remained thus a moment, thinking; then she spoke with perfect clarity: "It is in truth a great honor for me that Your Excellency should come forward to ask for my hand on behalf of Mansour Bey. But as Your Excellency knows, I am a village girl by origin, one of the people of the hills, and never before today had I made the acquaintance of Mansour Bey. It seems to me that if I am to consider his suit seriously, each of us must first come to know the other more fully for some space of time before I give a final answer. Does Your Excellency not agree with me in this?"

The Minister said approvingly: "Most certainly, most certainly, for modern life demands it." Then he knit his brow and his face grew

grave, as though he had suddenly remembered some weighty matter, and he said to Haifa: "I remember now that your late father — may God enfold him in His wide mercy — when we were fighting the

French together, sleeping now on the rocks and now on the bare ground, and passing most of our time on horseback, never tired of telling me about a small boy, one of the boys of your village, whom