"Your slave will lead the way," said he, softly; "be merciful, and follow him."

He then turned and began the ascent of the path that leads up to the crest of the rock. Masa followed, praying to herself that her mother's spirit might accompany and guard her from all danger.

Both were silent; Mohammed hastened on from rock to rock, higher and higher.

Mohammed was right. Masa fluttered lightly from cliff to cliff like a white dove.

At times he stood still and looked behind him.

It perhaps occurred to him that he was walking too rapidly, and should give her time to rest. Or he feared, perhaps, the heavenly form might suddenly vanish like the vision of a dream.

"See," said he, pointing to the moon now waxing pale in the heavens. "See, the night is drawing to a close, and day is about to break. I wish to see the sun rise with you, O Masa!"

"I, too, desire it," was whispered in her heart, but her lips did not utter the words. "Lead the way, I follow you."

(Editor：love)