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FOB SHE WAS A PRINCESS FIRST OF ALL thoughts. Then a name crashed thru the rainbow web of day-dreams. Two of her servants knelt before her. "May it please the Princess to judge a prisoner found at dawn with- out the city walls?" "Who is the man?" said Nelia. "Abdullah Dhu." Abdullah Dhu! The Princess started to her feet. Abdullah Dhu! Outlaw, robber, slayer of her father, the man whose death she had vowed! In a voice like the tinkle of ice she cried, "Bring him in." He stood before her, bound hand and foot, and her proud heart stood still. (Th-e desert — the strange scent of far spaces — footsteps over the creaking sand ) "How pale she is, the Princess," whispered one slave-girl to another. "It is hatred that eats her." "Aye, she hath sworn the outlaw's death," answered another, with a secret look at the prisoner; "but he is not ugly to look at " The eyes of the outlaw and the Princess met, locked. She did not stir, tho in her heart pain held carnival. O night — short night of Life and love — O rose that would never bloom again — 0 waning moon! "How, O Princess, shall this man be punished?" If he would but turn his eyes away! — never to hear the deep voice again — to feel the strong hands never, nor his lips burning on hers! She was a Princess—but a woman, too. Allah would forgive a broken oath. Her father in Paradise would forgive. After all, life was hers, and life was sweet. She drew a long breath. "Away!" she said, slowly; "and to- night at moonrise put him to death." For she was a Princess first of all. "The Princess lives forever!" chanted her slaves. But, ah, the dream that was broken —the desert in the moonlight, and the strong footsteps across the sand! Allah be merciful!