"No, Mohammed! You called me a white dove. Then let the white dove fly away on its mission. You would not be the huntsman that takes its life? See, beneath us lies Cavalla, where people are now beginning to move about. The eyes of gossips might see me, and the sharp tongues of calumny defame my father's daughter. That may not be, for the sake of my good name, and for your sake too, Mohammed. Let me go down alone, and you remain until you see me descending the stairway. Do not go down until then. Do not give evil tongues occasion to suspect and speak ill of me. Let the white dove that is to wing her flight, when it pleases Allah, to the nest you have prepared for her, be pure and with. out reproach. Do not speak one more word, and do not look at me only see how weak I am: if you look at me again I shall stand still and wait till you command me to go. Turn away from me and let me go. Let us both pray to Allah that our wishes may be granted."

He turns away as she requested, and gazes in the opposite direction, at the blue sky and the foaming sea. He sees her not, but the pain he feels tells him Masa is leaving; he knows, without hearing her footsteps, that she is walking from him. He remains above as she had requested. After a while he turns around and looks after her. He sees the white dove fluttering downward from rock to rock, and at last disappear on the stairway that leads to Praousta.

"May Allah bless her mission, that I may live, live for Masa, for her I love so passionately! All that I do shall henceforth be for her, and Mohammed's life will be bliss and sunshine."

THE village of Praousta had now assumed a busy look. The men had assembled around the mosque, and were conversing in eager, anxious tones.

When they saw the veiled girl approaching they bowed their heads respectfully, as is becoming in the presence of the unhappy. They knew the beautiful Masa, in spite of her veil. They knew she had gone up to her father to implore him to take pity on himself and on her. They now stepped up to her and asked if her father still lived, and if there was any hope of preserving his life.

"His life is in your hands," replied Masa. "I come to conjure you to save the life of my father, and of the noble old men, the ulemas."

"How can we, daughter of Sheik Alepp?" cried the men. "How can we save their lives?"

"You ask me? Then I will tell you: You must bow your heads beneath the yoke. You must obey the commands of the tschorbadji."

(Editor：map)