Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-05-08

the galleries, cried from the terrace roofs, sped
on the wings of the winds. and won back the
love of the wild Berbers, who had faltered in
their affection for him when it became known
that he had taken to wife another besides the
daughter of their shek. Once more they shook
their heads and called him the hope of the faith
full. although not speaking of the other woman
openly; for such is against the Mussulman
creed.
WHO may read the souls of men or the ways
of Allah? Who can tell why the change
permitted to come. here in the Garden of
Fate? But it came. | cannot say why; for l
am giving you only the legend as told to me
with all its detail, its awfuness, its ultimate
horror
He paused for a moment and moved rest
lessly, stared at the fountain and then gave
quick lowering sweep of his eyes toward the
room behind, the dimly outlined gray walls
which shone high above the garden, and the
motioness trees which seemed listening to his
recountal of the scenes they had witnessed.
WHO may know what Ell Hasan, the mighty,
strong. courageous, and young, favored with
all that is good in life. clean and unsuspectlng.
felt when he came into his garden one morning,
clad all in white-for he simple man
and as he walked down the graveled path past
the masses of flowers saw something that
made him pause? An African gardener who
had been trimming the shrubs watched him
from the corner of his eye while pretending to
continue his labor. The birds above must have
deringly still. The African said. long after,
that his face was something fearful to look
upon. that it distorted as if in spasm, and
that he stood still. looking meanwhile at the
walls about the Garden of Fate and then back
at the half clasp of mans burnoose which lay
in his open palm. Finally, with a gesture OF
disgust, he threw the piece of gold far of into
the depths of a thicket. his face cleared. and
he went on into the little house. where voice
was heard singing little lifting songs to baby
which crOOned in the delight of life.
THE gardener said that the Princes visit
was brief that morning. and that when he
went out he stopped at the portal IN the MD
die wall and said in his quiet lncislve way that
if he ever learned of the gate from the inner
garden being left unwarded by the slaves who
attended it. he would with his own hands cut
off their lives. The slaves trembled and swore
that it had never been nor ever would be and
vowed faithfulness to their charge; but FL
Hasan, still frowning and thoughtful had gone
on before they finished.
For time the affairs of the house passed
before, the Prince never seeing his bride
who had been given him by the Sultan, the
slaves watching. the moon shining. the wind
stirring the and flowers. and the voice OF the
Berber mother singing throughout the day from
an overf1owing heart and listening for the creak-
ing hinges which always told her in advance that
the man she loved. the father of her boy, was
coming to his own.-days when the Prince
lounged in this secluded spot, and read from
the books of many tongues he knew. and played
with the child whose words were beginning 10
come. or nights when he lay here on the veranda
with his head pillowed cushions and listened
to the grlish voice in the wild songs of the free
desert she had known. accompanied by the gen.
tie tones of the zikarrah and the whispered
song of the fountain. nights when the birds
that knew her twittered sleepily from the
boughs of trees and the firefes whirled through
the air while they two talked and the boy
inside this oasis in the heart of city slept as
babies sleep.
THERE came another morning when the
African saw the Prince stop as he walked
beside farther wall and pick up a glove. a
mans glove such as are worn by officers of the
black guard. This time he did not throw it
away; but clutched it furiously, looked up at
the wall above. at the tiny cottage where the
woman still asleep, and thrust it within
the folds of his burnoose. Nor did he pass be-
tween the marble columns; but instead walked
with dropping head and nervous step out past
the fountain, beyond the Italian statues and
through the guarded door. saying nothing. even
to himself; for the Fileli when wounded in
heart are slow to speech and stealthy.
He did not return for whole day. and then
another. and the voice in the nest was first
melancholy and then stied. When he did
come it was as thirsty man rushing to the
desert spring and longer able to forbear or
bride his thirst. She gave cry and met him
at the door. He took her tightly into his arms
for time and then held her off and looked