THE PRINCE OF INDIA (Historical Novel). Lew Wallace

of India Preaches God to the Greeks

       XVI. How the New Faith Was Received

       XVII. Lael and the Sword of Solomon

       XVIII. The Festival of Flowers

       XIX. The Prince Builds Castles for His Gul- Bahar

       XX. The Silhouette of a Crime

       XXI. Sergius Learns a New Lesson

       XXII. The Prince of India Seeks Mahommed

       XXIII. Sergius and Nilo Take Up the Hunt

       XXIV. The Imperial Cistern Gives Up Its Secret

       Book V. Mirza

       I. A Cold Wind From Adrianople

       II. A Fire From the Hegumen’s Tomb

       III. Mirza Does an Errand for Mahommed

       IV. The Emir in Italy

       V. The Princess Irené in Town

       VI. Count Corti in Sancta Sophia

       VII. Count Corti to Mahommed

       VIII. Our Lord’s Creed

       IX. Count Corti to Mahommed

       X. Sergius to the Lion

       Book VI. Constantine

       I. The Sword of Solomon

       II. Mahommed and Count Corti Make a Wager

       III. The Bloody Harvest

       IV. Europe Answers the Cry for Help

       V. Count Corti Receives a Favor

       VI. Mahommed at the Gate St. Romain

       VII. The Great Gun Speaks

       VIII. Mahommed Tries His Guns Again

       IX. The Madonna to the Rescue

       X. The Night Before the Assault

       XI. Count Corti in Dilemma

       XII. The Assault

       XIII. Mahommed in Sancta Sophia

       Postscripts

      Rise, too, ye Shapes and Shadows of the Past

       Rise from your long-forgotten graves at last

       Let us behold your faces, let us hear

       The words you uttered in those days of fear

       Revisit your familiar haunts again

       The scenes of triumph, and the scenes of pain

       And leave the footprints of your bleeding feet

       Once more upon the pavement of the street.

      Longfellow

      TO MY FATHER, DAVID WALLACE

      He loved literature for the pleasures it brought him; and could I have had his counsel while composing this work, the critics would not be so terrible to me now that it is about going to press.

      —The Author, Crawfordsville, Ind.

       May 20, 1893

      Book I.

       The Earth and the Sea Are Always Giving Up Their Secrets

       Table of Contents

      Chapter I.

       The Nameless Bay

       Table of Contents

      In the noon of a September day in the year of our dear Lord 1395, a merchant vessel nodded sleepily upon the gentle swells of warm water flowing in upon the Syrian coast. A modern seafarer, looking from the deck of one of the Messagerie steamers now plying the same line of trade, would regard her curiously, thankful to the calm which held her while he slaked his wonder, yet more thankful that he was not of her passage.

      She could not have exceeded a hundred tons burthen. At the bow and stern she was decked, and those quarters were fairly raised. Amidship she was low and open, and pierced for twenty oars, ten to a side, all swaying listlessly from the narrow ports in which they were hung. Sometimes they knocked against each other. One sail, square and of a dingy white, drooped from a broad yard-arm, which was itself tilted, and now and then creaked against the yellow mast complainingly, unmindful of the simple tackle designed to keep it in control. A watchman crouched in the meagre shade of a fan-like structure overhanging the bow deck. The roofing and the floor, where exposed, were clean, even bright; in all other parts subject to the weather and the wash there was only the blackness of pitch. The steersman sat on a bench at the stem. Occasionally, from force of habit, he rested a hand upon the rudder-oar to be sure it was yet in reach. With exception of the two, the lookout and the steersman, all on board, officers, oarsmen, and sailors, were asleep—such confidence could a Mediterranean calm inspire in those accustomed to life on the beautiful sea. As if Neptune never became angry there, and blowing his conch, and smiting with his trident, splashed the sky with the yeast of waves! However, in 1395 Neptune had disappeared; like the