Half an hour or more passed; none had entered the place.

The grave old Moslem was half slumbering himself, when there came a delicate odor of perfumed laces, a delicate rustle of silk swept the floor; a lady's voice asked the price of an ostrich-egg, superbly mounted in gold.

Ben Arsli opened his eyes--the Chasseur slept on; the newcomer was one of those great ladies who now and then winter in Algeria.
Her carriage waited without; she was alone, making purchase of those innumerable splendid trifles with which Algiers is rife, while she drove through the town in the cooler hour before the sun sank into the western sea.
The Moor rose instantly, with profound salaams, before her, and began to spread before her the richest treasures of his stock.

Under plea of the light, he remained near the entrance with her; money was dear to him, and must not be lost, but he would make it, if he could, without awakening the tired soldier.

Marvelous caskets of mother-of-pearl; carpets soft as down with every brilliant hue melting one within another; coffee equipages, of inimitable metal work; silver statuettes, exquisitely chased and wrought; feather-fans, and screens of every beauty of device, were spread before her, and many of them were bought by her with that unerring grace of taste and lavishness of expenditure which were her characteristics, but which are far from always found in unison; and throughout her survey Ben Arsli kept her near the entrance, and Cecil had slept on, unaroused by the low tones of their voices.
A roll of notes had passed from her hand to the Moslem's and she was about to glide out to her carriage, when a lamp which hung at the farther end caught her fancy.