lessly, "but I profess not to understand such matters. The slave is dead, and thou hast one less to care for."
With this sentiment, accompanied by a smile of pity and a shake of his head, the Minister of Marine left the Padre, and directed his steps towards the town. On his way he met the court story-teller or jester.
"Thou art early astir, Hadji Babi," he said. "Is there aught in the wind?"
"There is much in the wind," answered the jester gravely; "there is oxygen and nitrogen, if philosophers be right—which is an open question—and there is something lately discovered which they call ozone. Discoveries in time past give ground for expectation of discoveries in time to come. There is much in the wind, methinks."
"True, true," rejoined Omar, with an approving nod; "and what sayest thou as to the atmosphere of the palace?"
The jester, who had strong suspicions as to the good-faith of Omar, yet was not sufficiently in the confidence of the Dey to know exactly how matters stood, replied with caution—
"It is serene, as usual; not disturbed by untoward elements, as the air of a palace ought to be."
"That is well, Hadji Baba," returned Omar, in a confidential tone; "nevertheless thou knowest that
