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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77078 ***
+
+SAÏD
+THE FISHERMAN
+
+
+
+
+THE
+BLUE JADE
+LIBRARY
+
+
+THE
+WOOINGS OF JEZEBEL PETTYFER
+
+_Haldane Mac Fall_
+
+
+THE LIFE OF HENRI BRULARD
+
+_Henry Beyle-Stendhal_
+
+
+CAPTAIN COOK’S VOYAGES
+
+_Andrew Kippis_
+
+
+HADRIAN THE SEVENTH
+
+_Frederick Baron Corvo_
+
+SAÏD THE FISHERMAN
+
+_Marmaduke Pickthall_
+
+
+THE DIABOLIQUES
+
+_Jules Barbey d’Aurevilly_
+
+
+_OTHER TITLES IN PREPARATION_
+
+
+
+
+_MARMADUKE PICKTHALL_
+
+  SAÏD
+  THE FISHERMAN
+
+[Illustration]
+
+  _NEW YORK_
+  ALFRED A. KNOPF
+  1925
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1925, BY ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC.
+
+MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+Part I
+
+THE BOOK OF HIS LUCK
+
+        I
+        II
+        III
+        IV
+        V
+        VI
+        VII
+        VIII
+        IX
+        X
+        XI
+        XII
+        XIII
+        XIV
+        XV
+        XVI
+        XVII
+        XVIII
+        XIX
+        XX
+        XXI
+        XXII
+        XXIII
+        XXIV
+        XXV
+        XXVI
+        XXVII
+        XXVIII
+        NOTES TO PART I
+
+
+    Part II
+    THE BOOK OF HIS FATE
+
+        I
+        II
+        III
+        IV
+        V
+        VI
+        VII
+        VIII
+        IX
+        X
+        XI
+        XII
+        XIII
+        XIV
+        XV
+        XVI
+        XVII
+        TIME TABLE
+
+
+
+
+PART ONE
+
+THE BOOK OF HIS LUCK
+
+
+“_There were some of them who made a covenant with God: Verily, if
+He gives us of His abundance, we will give alms and become righteous
+people._”—ALCORAN.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+The house of Saïd the fisherman nestled among the sandhills of the
+seashore at a long stone’s throw from the town, in whose shadow it lay
+at sunset. Within, it was a single room, very dirty, the abode of many
+aged smells; without, a squat cube with walls of stone and roof of mud
+sun-baked and rolled to a seemly flatness. Hard by was a fig-tree,
+the nearest to the sea in all that coast. Here, in a crotch of the
+branches, Saïd would place his mattress in the stifling summer nights
+and snore two deep bass notes in peace and coolness, while his wife
+trumpeted a treble from her couch upon the house-top. Here, when the
+day’s work was done, he would squat in the shade, drawing leisurely at
+his narghileh, with the sound of bubbling water to cool him at every
+puff.
+
+He was not a great fisherman, such as is to be found in Europe, with
+a sailing-boat of his own, who will go far out to sea with his nets.
+If there were any such in all the coasts of Arabistan, Saïd had never
+heard of them. Sometimes he would row out in a friend’s boat to a
+little distance from the shore and drop his nets, a great circle of
+bobbing cork and driftwood to mark their whereabouts. But mostly he
+would go to some river-mouth or promontory where flat-topped rocks
+stretched far into the sea, promising safe foothold. And there,
+mother-naked, save for a huge turban, he would paddle and flounder all
+day long with his cast-net, sometimes alone, sometimes with several
+comrades.
+
+At times, when the catch had been good, he would go into the city with
+a crate of fish and take his stand in the market-place, in a corner
+which from long use he had come to call his own. There he would cry
+in a loud voice, beseeching Allah to put a craving for fish into the
+hearts of the passers-by. And Allah often lent a kindly ear to his
+prayer, for he seldom went home but with an empty basket.
+
+It was one evening as he was wending homeward, dragging his empty
+basket with him across the sand, that the first gust of misfortune
+struck him.
+
+The sun drew near to his setting, though as yet the sky was innocent
+of red. Shadows lengthened eastwards across the sand, of the colour
+of a periwinkle flower. A number of dogs were lying replete about the
+body of a dead donkey at the edge of the ripples, panting drowsily with
+their tongues out. They blinked at him as he passed, and their bellies
+heaved uneasily. They were too full to snarl. A sense of well-being was
+upon him. He stopped to draw forth a little bag from the girdle of his
+robe. It contained the gains of the day. He let go the empty basket and
+squatted down upon the sand, telling out the money piece by piece into
+his lap. His eyes gloated over the pile.
+
+He held the fingers of his left hand wide apart and touched them one
+by one with the forefinger of his right. His brows puckered with the
+effort to reckon how much he could afford to lay by in that hole in the
+floor of his house which held his savings.
+
+So far as he could count, it needed but one more day like this to make
+up the price of the coffee-house he had it in his mind to buy. Then he
+would leave the fishing business to Abdullah, his friend and partner,
+and customers would know him thenceforth as Saïd Effendi. That was but
+the first step in the path of his ambition. Presently he would be a
+Bey—an Emìr, perhaps. He would lie all day upon a cushioned couch,
+smoking from a narghileh of rare workmanship. And when Abdullah came to
+beg him to buy fish, he would seize him by both ears and spit in his
+face.
+
+Of a sudden the sound of loud shouting broke upon his reverie.
+
+“Oäh! Oäh! Look to thyself, son of a dog!”
+
+He was aware of two horsemen galloping madly down upon him from a gap
+in the sandhills—Turkish officers of the garrison by their uniform.
+They were close upon him. He leapt to his feet and sprang aside just in
+time to save himself from being knocked down and trampled under their
+horses’ hoofs. He heard them laugh aloud and curse him as they sped by,
+blinding him for the moment in a cloud of sand.
+
+“May their house be destroyed!” he snarled, looking after them and
+showing his fangs like a dog that is angry. Then he remembered the
+money which had been in his lap when their shouts startled him, and
+there was no longer any room for anger in his heart.
+
+A wild light of hope and fear in his eyes, he flung himself full length
+upon the ground and fell to groping and sifting with trembling hands.
+But the wild rush of the horses had played the whirlwind with the sand,
+scattering it hither and thither and dinting it deep with hoof-prints.
+After many minutes of burrowing and seeking he had found only two small
+copper coins; and already the sun was sinking behind the city and its
+headland, whose shadow was within a hand’s-breadth of him. A long train
+of camels passed him going towards the gate, the drivers cheerful at
+sight of their journey’s end.
+
+“What seekest thou, young man?” cried one of them as he passed the
+fisherman.
+
+Saïd raised himself to a kneeling posture and spread his hands over his
+eyes.
+
+“Away, scoffer!” he cried sternly. “Who art thou that thou shouldst
+question a pious man at his prayers?” Then, after an interval of
+meditation, he prostrated himself so that his forehead touched the sand
+and forthwith resumed his search, earnestly beseeching Allah to guide
+his fingers aright and to keep all prying strangers at a distance.
+
+The shadow was now upon him. All the west was a blaze of red gold, so
+that every roof, every dome, every palm-tree upon the sky-line stood
+outlined clear and black. It was time to give over this frantic groping
+and clutching which gave such meagre results. He sat up and, squatting
+on his heels, began a more orderly and less haphazard search, taking
+one handful of sand at a time, sifting it between his fingers and
+laying it on one side upon a heap. After more than an hour’s experience
+of this process he had recovered some twenty small coins, amounting
+perhaps to a fifth part of the sum he had lost.
+
+Night fell: the stars shone out, blackening the bulk of the dead ass,
+a few paces distant, which the dogs, reinforced by stray comrades
+from the city, were beginning to worry anew. The ripples, breaking in
+luminous foam upon the beach, murmured sadly in his ears. Hunger began
+to get hold of him. Hasneh would be wondering what had happened, and
+that savoury mess of lentils and oil would be baked to a cinder. Why
+should he not go home, eat and drink, and return to his search later
+on? It was not likely that the sand would be again disturbed that
+night. He could come back early in the morning and collect the rest of
+his scattered fortune. His basket would mark the exact spot.
+
+So thinking, he rose and went homewards. A faint light streamed from
+the door and window of his dwelling. Hasneh was in there with the
+lentils. His heart warmed at the thought, making the neighbouring void
+colder and more empty by contrast. As he drew near to the house a sound
+of wailing grew in his ears—such wailing as he had heard at funerals
+of the rich, where mourners were well paid for it.
+
+His first thought was of the lentils, that they were spoilt. His
+next, not without relief, that someone was dead within the house. But
+there was no one to die except Hasneh herself, and she it was who was
+wailing, as he had sometimes heard her scold, in a shrill cadence. His
+desire to learn the truth lent wings to his feet. In a few long strides
+he gained the threshold.
+
+His woman lay stretched upon the floor within—a heap of clothes from
+which those ghastly moans and howls proceeded, mingled with curses on
+some unknown being of the male sex. For a moment Saïd stood frozen in
+the doorway. Then the sight of something black and shrivelled in a pan
+upon the brazier sent angry blood coursing through every vein in his
+body. That something had once been a savoury mess of lentils baked in
+oil, the lust of which had drawn him from his search among the sand.
+He sprang to a corner of the room, seized a great staff which leaned
+against the wall, and fell to belabouring the woman with all the
+strength of his arm. Her droning wail changed all at once to a lively
+shriek. She leapt to her feet and closed with him, trying vainly to
+wrest the stick from his hand.
+
+“May Allah cut short thy life!” she cried. “What have I done to deserve
+this of thee?”
+
+“The lentils are spoilt!” retorted Saïd, furiously, wrenching his arm
+free of her and bringing the stick down heavily on her back. “May thy
+house be destroyed!”
+
+“Madman!” she screamed. “Thou speakest of lentils when an enemy has
+robbed thee, ruined thee! Look!”
+
+She pointed to a hole in the floor which had been hidden by her body
+when Saïd entered. Little mounds of fresh sand on the brink of it
+showed that hands had lately been at work there.
+
+As Saïd’s eyes followed the line of her forefinger his jaw fell and the
+anger died out of his face. His stick clattered on the ground. Some
+thief had found out the place where his treasure was hidden, had come
+in his absence and unearthed the savings of ten long years.
+
+He peered into the hole to assure himself that it was quite empty. Not
+a single para had been let fall or overlooked by the miscreant. His
+eyes became dull and filmy as those of a blind man. His face grew livid
+as the face of a corpse. He fell back against the wall of the room.
+
+Supposing that the shock of her news had killed him, Hasneh began to
+wail anew, beating her breast and plucking at her robe to tear it. Her
+voice revived Saïd somewhat.
+
+“Be silent,” he muttered—“thou thief! Thou alone wast in the secret of
+the hiding-place.”
+
+“Thy life is my life; thy fortune, my fortune,” replied the woman, with
+indignation. “If thou prosperest, I prosper; and I have a part in thy
+loss. Listen now to the truth, nor judge me hastily unheard.
+
+“Having prepared the lentils, I sat awaiting thy return, when my heart
+became sad within me. And I thought, if I uncover the hiding-place and
+fill my eyes with the sight of that which is good to see, there is no
+sin. So I took the piece of a broken vessel and scraped until the heap
+of coins was laid bare to mine eyes. So my heart had peace.
+
+“And as I sat gazing upon my husband’s wealth which is mine, the voice
+of Abdullah called from without; ‘Behold the great fish, the giant of
+the deep, whose back is like Lebanon and his fins as the winnowing fans
+of Allah, with which he makes the winds to blow and stirs the sea to
+madness! It is Saïd who has brought it to land. It lies by the white
+stone where the nets of Saïd are spread out to dry. Run, O Hasneh, and
+thou shalt see that which no woman has ever seen.’
+
+“At that I gathered up my raiment and ran out of the house, expecting
+to find Abdullah; but I found no man. I went all about the house, but
+I found not Abdullah nor any other. Then I trembled and fear came upon
+me. But the news of the great fish drew me onward, until I came to the
+white stone and found it lonely as ever and the sea-fowl undisturbed
+upon it. Then I knew that an evil spirit had cried in the voice of
+Abdullah to lead me astray. So I ran back with all speed along the
+shore. When I came to the house the hole was as thou seest it and all
+the money gone.”
+
+Her last words were almost drowned in a flood of tears.
+
+Saïd trembled and cold sweat stood in pearls upon his forehead.
+
+“An evil spirit has done this,” he murmured hoarsely. “Oh, that my
+enemy had been a man!”
+
+He fell to bemoaning his fate, cursing the day that he was born, and
+calling upon Allah to have mercy upon his faithful servant. The house
+that had been rifled by an evil spirit seemed dreadful and unfamiliar.
+The night which wrapped it about was filled with hideous faces, which
+glowered at him and mocked him through door and lattice. At length he
+exclaimed: “Abide here, Hasneh, and keep watch. If thou hearest a voice
+or seest any evil sight, cry aloud upon the name of Allah and thou
+shalt be safe.”
+
+With that he stepped out into the night, and, girding up his robe,
+sped across the sand to the city, black on the starlight, where a few
+scattered lights shone faintly.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+Close to the gate which is called the sea-gate, by which one goes down
+to the shore, there was a house, or rather hovel, built against the
+wall. This was the dwelling-place of Abdullah, Saïd’s bosom friend
+and partner. Abdullah himself was sitting in the doorway, smoking his
+narghileh, when Saïd came upon him. He was a fat man, with small bright
+eyes which were seldom at rest. Within the house a wick, floating in
+a saucer of grease, threw a fitful light upon the four walls, upon a
+couch whereon his wife lay huddled, a baby at her breast, upon the
+disorderly litter of the floor. At sight of his friend Abdullah started
+to his feet. His eyes were shifty to right and left, as though seeking
+some way of escape.
+
+“May thy night be happy,” he faltered.
+
+“May thy night be happy and blessed,” replied Saïd, keeping the rule
+which bids every man return a compliment with interest. Then with a
+frantic gesture, “I am ruined! An evil spirit is my ill-wisher. My
+money—all that I had saved these many years—has been stolen. Oh, that
+a man had been the thief!”
+
+Saïd’s hands clutched murderously at the air and clenched, showing how
+he would have dealt with a mortal foe.
+
+Abdullah’s composure returned to him at these words. His face was
+almost cheerful as he exclaimed, “Merciful Allah!”
+
+“Listen, Abdullah,” pursued the other. “In my way homeward from the
+market I sat down to count over the price of the fish I had sold,
+when—whizz!—came two horsemen out of the air, and would have ridden
+over me had not Allah put it into my mind to jump aside. They laughed
+as they galloped by. They had the faces of jin—you know them!—eyes
+set slantwise, ears long and leaf-shaped like the ears of a pig. Then
+I found that all the money I had been counting was scattered in the
+sand. After long seeking I recovered but a few coins of small value.
+It grew dark. A train of camels came along the shore. Each camel was
+as big as a house, with a hump like the dome of a mosque. One of the
+drivers looked at me and asked me what I did. His eyes were two flames.
+They seemed to burn through to my heart. But I prayed to Allah and he
+vanished, the camels with him. I went home, hungry and thirsty, to
+supper; but I found my wife cast down upon the floor, weeping, and the
+lentils quite spoilt.
+
+“Then she told me what had happened. As she sat in the house a voice
+cried to her, for there was a great fish like a mountain lying on the
+shore by the white stone. She stepped out, but saw no man. She went to
+the stone, but there was no fish great or small. When she returned to
+the house she found a hole in the floor at the place where my treasure
+was hidden. All the money was clean gone. Oh, that my enemy had been a
+man!”
+
+“Said she aught of the voice which tempted her?” asked Abdullah, with a
+hint of anxiety. His form was outlined in shadow upon the faint light
+which streamed from the doorway, so that Saïd could not see his face.
+
+“Yes—a strange thing—she says that the voice was as thy voice, O
+father of Azìz.”
+
+“There is no doubt that some devil has robbed thee,” said Abdullah,
+quickly. “Allah be my witness, I have not left my house since noon by
+reason of a pain in my belly. Is it not true, Nesibeh?”
+
+The woman thus appealed to rose from her couch and came shuffling to
+the door. “Yes, it is true, by Allah,” she averred. “He has been very
+ill, I feared he was at the gate of death. But, praise to Allah, the
+pain has left his belly and he is now in health again. An afrìt has
+robbed thee and has beguiled thy woman with the voice of Abdullah.”
+
+“I am ruined! What can I do?” Saïd cried in a frenzy of despair. “Thou,
+O Abdullah, art known in all the city for a wise man. Counsel me, I
+entreat thee!”
+
+Abdullah’s face assumed the stolid expression supposed by the muleteers
+and camel-drivers whose oracle he was, to betoken wisdom. His eyes
+became intent upon the inwards of a fish which adorned the ground
+near his feet. He sucked long and steadily at the mouthpiece of his
+narghileh, causing the water in the bowl to bubble convulsively and the
+charcoal in the cup above to give forth a lurid glow. Then he took the
+tube from his mouth, cleared his throat, spat solemnly, and said,—
+
+“A devil has a spite against thee—that is known. He has entered thy
+house once, he will enter it again. It is likely that he is of those
+who haunt the waste places of the shore, perhaps the very same who
+dwells in the ruined shrine among the sandhills. It were well for thee
+to take thy staff and thy woman and go into some far country—into Masr
+or into the sunset-land which lies beyond. So thou shalt have peace,
+being far from the enemy.”
+
+“What a mind!” exclaimed his wife, with hands raised in admiration. “He
+speaks like a prophet. The mind of Abdullah is not as the mind of other
+men. He is a devil!”
+
+“Tush, be silent, woman!” said the sage, indulgently.
+
+Saïd squatted down at the threshold beside his friend. He put a hand
+to his forehead and remained thus thoughtful for some time. Then he
+said, “Thy advice is good. To-morrow, at the rising of the sun, I shall
+depart. But thinkest thou in truth that the evil spirit will not follow
+me?”
+
+“The jin have their homes like men,” replied Abdullah, sententiously.
+“They love to spend their lives in one place. In another city thou
+shalt surely live undisturbed.”
+
+“But I have no money,” Saïd moaned, “without wealth I shall find no
+place in a strange land.”
+
+Abdullah shook his head sadly.
+
+“I am a poor man,” he said, “but all that I have is thine. Go, Nesibeh,
+see how much money there is in the house.”
+
+The woman left the doorway and shuffled across the room to the couch
+where her baby slept. She felt under the coverings and drew forth a
+small box, which jingled as she shook it.
+
+Raising the lid,—
+
+“Alas!” she moaned. “It is a bad day with Abdullah. There are but a few
+baras.”
+
+“It is a shame to ask my brother to accept so little!” exclaimed her
+husband.
+
+“A little is much to one who has nothing,” whispered Saïd, eagerly.
+“Give me but the few baras that are there and may Allah increase thy
+wealth!”
+
+Nesibeh turned the box upside down over the palm of her hand, and a
+number of small coins fell from it. Saïd’s brown fingers closed on them
+like an eagle’s claws. Then he rose to take leave.
+
+“In thy grace, I depart,” he said. “May Allah prosper thee, O father of
+Azìz.”
+
+“My peace go with thee,” said Abdullah, his voice broken with grief.
+
+Saïd strode away, sad at heart, his mind busy with plans for the
+future. Hope was all but dead within him, for he had eaten nothing
+since sunrise. Alone once more and in the darkness, fear fell upon
+him with renewed strength. All the night was full of ghastly faces,
+of fiery eyes that glowered upon him. Strange shapes flitted among
+the sandhills. The sea burned with a pallid light. A fitful moaning
+was in the air. Pausing for a moment, he fancied the night an endless
+procession of weird forms—a multitude which moved glidingly, silently,
+as one man. It filled him with a strange new horror, which yet seemed
+half familiar, as something remembered from a dream. Well-known sounds,
+such as the hooting of an owl, the bark of a dog from the city, or the
+howl of a jackal from some landward garden, were separate terrors.
+
+He had not made many steps from the door of his friend’s house ere the
+fear of the Unknown which lurks in darkness took hold of him. He girded
+up his loins and ran across the sand as fast as his brawny legs would
+carry him. He looked neither to the right nor left till he reached his
+house. On the threshold a savoury smell attacked his nostrils and hope
+suddenly revived. Hasneh stood with her back towards him, leaning over
+the brazier, from which light steam arose enveloping her and filling
+the house with that peculiarly hopeful smell. “Allah is just!” murmured
+Saïd, licking his lips.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+It was the coolest hour of all the twenty-four when Saïd the fisherman
+climbed down from his nest in the fig-tree. In spite of the troubles
+and fears of the evening before he had slept soundly and was refreshed.
+The eastern sky was whitening to the dawn, and a wave-line of distant
+mountains was grey and cloudlike upon it. Darkness still lingered on
+sea and land, but it was a darkness of the earth rather than of the
+heavens.
+
+From a jar within the threshold of the house he took a little water and
+went through the form of ablution. Then, facing south, he knelt and
+fell prostrate several times, thumbs fast behind his ears and hands
+spread across his eyes as an open book.
+
+As he walked along the shore to the place where he had left his basket
+overnight, the cry of the first awakened seabird hailed the dawn. The
+little city with its dome and minarets grew white before him against
+a sky still dark and studded with stars. A man came down from the
+sea-gate riding upon an ass. Then came another man with two camels. The
+folk of the city were astir and going every man about his business.
+
+The place was just as he left it, save that the carcase of the donkey
+had been dragged a few yards to landward by the hungry tearing of
+the dogs, and the backbone was now laid bare. He flung himself face
+downward on the sand and fell at once to his groping and sifting.
+
+The stars shone dead in the west, then vanished altogether. Rosy light
+stole over land and sea, mantling on the white buildings of the city
+like the shame in a young girl’s cheek. Then the sun flashed forth
+above the distant hills and all things had colours of their own once
+more.
+
+The rays struck warm on Saïd’s back as he lay prone beside his basket.
+Their touch cheered him like a friend’s hand. He set to work hopefully
+with the result that, in half an hour, he had recovered many coins,
+amounting to within a few paras of the sum lost.
+
+By that time there were many people on the beach, some entering, some
+leaving the city. It was unsafe to prolong the search lest someone,
+guessing his task, should fall upon him and rob him. He got up,
+therefore, and walked homeward, trailing his basket along with him.
+
+Hasneh stood in the doorway looking out for him. A donkey, burdened
+with two sacks, was tethered to a low-bending branch of the fig-tree.
+He smiled approval as he slipped off his shoes at the door. She had
+been stretched upon the roof when he set out and snoring loudly. He
+had been gone but a little while, yet here was the ass laden with all
+the house that was worth carrying, and the morning’s meal of bread and
+curds ready to be eaten.
+
+His fast fairly broken, Saïd went out to the fig-tree to see that the
+girths were firm which held the sacks to the body of the ass. The
+sunlight danced on the little waves as they pushed shoreward, and made
+pearls of the dewdrops which yet hung in the shade of some feathery
+tamarisks behind the house. The sky was a great blue dome over sea and
+land. His heart turned sick with the thought of quitting the well-known
+scene, with its familiar voices, to sojourn among strangers in a
+strange country. Why need he go? The terrors of the night before had no
+weight with him now. They had faded with the darkness and the stars.
+
+Doubtless his loss was great and hard to bear; but others had suffered
+worse things. The evil spirit which had robbed him might not return
+again; and if it did he had but to write the name of Allah upon the
+doorposts, then upon the shutters of the window, and his house would be
+safe. He stretched out his hand to loose the burden from the donkey’s
+back.
+
+“May thy day be happy, O Saïd,” came a complacent voice from behind.
+Turning, he stood face to face with Abdullah, his partner. “Thou art to
+depart—not so? I am coming to see if I can serve thee in the work of
+packing and lading.”
+
+“My mind is changed. Perhaps I go not,” rejoined Saïd, moodily.
+
+“What is this?” exclaimed the other, seeming horror-stricken. “Thou art
+mad to stay after all that has befallen thee here.”
+
+“What matter! The like or worse may befall me in a strange land. I will
+stay in the place where I was born, wherein is my father’s grave.”
+
+Once more Saïd put forth his hand to unload the ass, but Abdullah
+caught his arm.
+
+“I advise thee to thy advantage,” he whispered angrily. “We spoke last
+night of devils. What are they? Their power is only in the night. There
+are those who have power to harm thee both by night and day.” He sank
+his voice as if fearing lest a bird of the air might carry his words to
+high places. “The Basha has heard of thy wealth which thou pretendest
+to have lost. Men have told him how thou dost grope in the sand.
+Remember the fate of Ali ebn Mahmud, who was said to have a treasure
+hidden in his garden, how they beat and tortured him so that he died!”
+
+Saïd’s jaw fell. “Is this true?” he faltered.
+
+“True, by Allah!” replied the other, his face anxious, his little eyes
+keenly watchful of his friend’s countenance. “Am I a liar?”
+
+A wild light of terror flamed in Saïd’s orbs. He strode to the door
+of the house and shouted to Hasneh to make ready for the start. Then
+he returned and, untying the rope which bound the ass to the tree,
+bestrode the already laden beast. At the same moment his woman appeared
+from the house, a great bundle upon her head.
+
+“Allah be with thee!” he cried, striking the ass with his staff, so
+that it started forward at a shambling trot.
+
+“But what of thy nets, of thy house, of thy fig-tree?” cried Abdullah,
+wringing his hands.
+
+“Take them—all that I have!” shouted Saïd, without looking back. He
+was sitting on the hind-quarters of the donkey, flourishing a rope
+which served for bridle, his long brown legs stretched along the sacks,
+his feet erect beside the beast’s ears. His whole frame jolted with the
+trotting of his steed. The woman ran behind with one arm raised to keep
+her bundle from falling.
+
+“Whither away?” shouted Abdullah.
+
+“To Es-Shâm—to Baghdad—to India!—far away! What matter, so that I be
+out of his reach. May all his race perish!”
+
+Abdullah stood looking after the fugitives until they were lost to
+sight among the sandhills. Then he took a cigarette from somewhere in
+the depths of his trousers, lighted it and squatted down in the shade
+of the fig-tree now his own.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+As for Saïd, he urged his steed across the sand as fast as the weight
+on its back and the looseness of the ground would allow. His arm rose
+and fell continually with a backward sweep, and the hindmost part of
+the donkey rang wooden to the thwack of his stick. A constant growl of
+curses rolled upwards from his throat. Hasneh, her bosom heaving, her
+breath coming and going in short pants, struggled to keep up with him.
+
+As they proceeded the soil became firmer under foot; creeping branches
+of the wild vine, rank grasses and sundry big-leafed plants, bound
+the sand together. Soon they came into a road with a hedge of prickly
+pear on either side, fencing an orange garden. Through gaps in the
+hedge golden globes shone amid dark foliage with here and there a
+spray of white blossom. The air was cloyed with a fragrance from which
+the hum of bees seemed inseparable. A gate by the wayside stood open.
+Within were two men busy packing a great heap of oranges into square
+wooden boxes. Saïd shouted a salutation as he sped by, and in return
+they pelted him with the fruit—a dozen at least—which Hasneh stayed
+to gather up into the bosom of her robe. The scarlet flowers of a
+pomegranate tree flamed among the leafage on their right hand.
+
+A little while and the gardens were left behind. The wide plain rolled
+in smooth waves before them, away to the foot of the mountains, with a
+shimmer of grey olives in the distance.
+
+At the end of an hour, during the whole of which Saïd ceased not for a
+minute from beating his donkey, they drew near to a village which stood
+upon a hill, three fine palm-trees tapering skyward from among its
+squat dwellings of sun-baked mud. Here the fisherman proposed to rest
+awhile till the heat of the day should be passed. Hasneh praised Allah
+for the respite.
+
+As they entered the narrow pathway, choked with offal, which ran
+between the hovels, a man’s voice called to them from a doorway,—
+
+“Deign to enter, O Saïd! Honour my house with thy presence!”
+
+The speaker came forth and bowed low, holding a hand to his forehead.
+He was a huge, loutish fellow, who had seen thirty summers and more. He
+had a bushy black beard, and big brown eyes of rare stupidity. His long
+garment and his turban had grown old upon him. He came sometimes to the
+market to sell the produce of his fields. Saïd had seen him there and
+spoken with him more than once. He was called Muhammed abu Hassan, and
+bore the reputation of a good-tempered, lazy fellow.
+
+The fisherman, nothing loth, alighted, and having touched the hand of
+his host in salutation, proceeded to tie up his ass to the doorpost.
+That done, he slipped off his shoes and allowed himself to be ushered
+into the house. Hasneh squatted down humbly at the threshold of the
+door.
+
+Their host set to work to kindle some charcoal upon a stone in one
+corner of the room, grumbling all the while because his woman was not
+there to do it for him. She was at work in the tobacco-fields, it
+appeared, with others of the village.
+
+Somehow—it must have been by magic, or the laden ass tethered outside
+may have had something to do with it—it soon became known in all the
+village that a stranger had arrived from the city and was the guest of
+Muhammed abu Hassen. Men dropped in, one by one, feigned surprise at
+sight of Saïd and of each other, and squatted down with their back to
+the wall.
+
+“What news?” was the first question of a new-comer after the proper
+civilities had been exchanged.
+
+To which Saïd replied, in every case, “There is nothing new to-day.”
+
+“It is said that there will be war between the Turks and the Franks?”
+said an old man, reverend and very dirty, in a tone three parts of
+assertion, one part of inquiry.
+
+“I have heard nothing of it,” Saïd answered, rolling a cigarette
+between thumb and forefinger.
+
+“Allah grant that there be no war!” cried an aged sheykh, with face
+wrinkled as a withered olive, in a quavering voice. “I remember, when
+the last war was, they sent suddenly and seized every horse, mule, and
+donkey in our village for the soldiers to ride. Only a horse and two
+asses were restored to us when all was over. And after two days the
+horse died.”
+
+There broke forth a chorus of guttural curses upon wars and soldiers.
+
+At last the business of grinding and stewing the coffee was
+accomplished. Two small cups were passed round the circle from hand
+to hand, Muhammed filling and refilling them until all had partaken.
+Even Hasneh, sitting patient and submissive on the doorsill, was not
+forgotten in the end.
+
+“Whither goest thou?” asked Muhammed of his guest, when at last he had
+leisure for conversation.
+
+“To Damashc-ush-Shâm,” replied Saïd, and hesitated. He dared not tell
+the true reason of his leaving home, lest he should forfeit the esteem
+of his hearers. A man who bewails his misfortunes before strangers is a
+fool and rightly despised; but he who exalts himself is sure of honour.
+He added,—
+
+“I go to Es-Shâm, to the house of my brother, who is dead. He was a
+great man and rich. Moreover, his woman was barren. I go to claim the
+inheritance.”
+
+The murmur of congratulation which this fiction called forth had
+scarcely died away when a clatter of hoofs rang through the village.
+Faint shouts and cries came from the distant field where the women were
+at work.
+
+“The soldiers! The soldiers are upon us!” cried Hasneh from her post at
+the threshold.
+
+Every man sprang to his feet and rushed to the door, Saïd with the
+rest. Five Turkish soldiers and a young officer rode at a foot’s pace
+up the narrow path between the hovels. Remembering the words which
+Abdullah had spoken that morning, Saïd’s teeth chattered. Doubtless the
+Pasha was informed of his flight and these men had been sent to take
+him.
+
+“Where is the house of the sheykh of the village?” cried the officer as
+he rode by.
+
+A score of turbaned heads were bowed, a score of brown hands saluted,
+and a score of voices proffered directions in divers tones of
+self-abasement. Saïd was reassured. Had the officer been looking for
+him he would not surely have asked for the house of the sheykh. The
+next moment his heart sank again and a cry of dismay broke from his
+lips. One of the troopers, in passing, bent down, and, severing the
+cord by which the donkey was tethered with one stroke of a knife,
+caught the end deftly as it fell, and rode on, leading with him all
+that remained of Saïd’s worldly goods. With a shriek of rage and
+despair, the wretched man broke through the crowd and sprang forth into
+the blinding sunlight. A few fierce bounds and he had overtaken the
+plunderer. He strove to wrest the rope from his grasp.
+
+“Stay! Stay!” he cried. “Let me but take off the sacks! It is all that
+I have!”
+
+For answer he received a blow on the wrist which forced him to quit
+hold.
+
+“Pig!” cried the soldier, angrily. “The Sultàn has need of thy beast
+for his soldiers; and I that am his soldier have need of those sacks
+for myself. Dost understand? Let go, son of a dog!”
+
+Saïd, baffled in his design upon the rope, was now struggling
+frantically to wrench the sacks from the donkey’s back.
+
+The cavalcade had come to a standstill before the house of the sheykh,
+and the other soldiers looked on good-humouredly, laughing now at
+their comrade, now at the fisherman, with perfect impartiality. Their
+laughter stung the plunderer to frenzy. He unslung the carbine from
+his back, and, leaning over the saddle-bow, dealt a vicious blow at
+Saïd’s head with the butt of it. The daylight swam blood-red before the
+fisherman’s eyes. His head seemed to dilate and there was a singing in
+his ears. He fell forward, senseless, upon the ground.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+When Saïd again became conscious of his surroundings he was in the
+house of Muhammed abu Hassan, lying on a couch. Hasneh and another
+woman were bending over him. The latter drew her veil hastily across
+her face as his eyes blinked at her in bewilderment. Hasneh uttered a
+cry of delight.
+
+Saïd looked about him wondering. Sullen, scowling faces filled the
+doorway, blotting out the sunlight. A sound of muttered oaths was in
+the room. Of a sudden he remembered all that had befallen him and
+staggered to his feet.
+
+“I am ruined!” he cried. “They have taken my donkey—all that I have.
+May Allah cut short their lives.”
+
+Responsive curses came from the group in the doorway, and Muhammed
+replied,—
+
+“We are sad for thee, effendi. The journey to Es-Shâm is long and
+wearisome for one that goes on foot. Yet art thou more happy than we.
+Thou wilt have the inheritance of thy brother who is dead. Thou wilt
+have wealth wherewith to buy horses and asses, as many as thou needest.
+But they have taken all that was ours. Curse their father! Of all our
+beasts there remain but a camel, and a mule which is on the point of
+dying.”
+
+Saïd’s hand was pressed to his forehead. His face had the inward look
+of one reviewing things past. At length he asked eagerly, “What is the
+hour?”
+
+“It is near the third hour since noon,” replied Muhammed after a brief
+glance at the shadow of his dwelling.
+
+The fisherman turned to his woman. “Ready, O Hasneh?” he asked.
+
+“Ready” was the meek rejoinder.
+
+“But thou art yet weak from the blow which the soldier—burn his
+house!—gave thee,” Muhammed, as host, was bound to protest. “My house
+is thy house. Rest here till evening. The first hours of night are
+pleasant for travelling.”
+
+But Saïd, remembering the words of Abdullah, was resolute. Pursuers
+might come upon him at any time. With profusion of thanks to Muhammed
+for his kindness he took up his staff and set out once more. Hasneh
+followed, her bundle poised upon her head.
+
+They passed out from the village down a steep slope, where big red
+anemones shone amid ragged grass, across a stony wady with a trickle of
+water among the pebbles, and entered a grove of olive-trees. Here Saïd
+lay down in the shade. He was still dizzy from the stunning blow he had
+received, and the strength seemed to run out of his legs. He complained
+bitterly of thirst; whereupon Hasneh produced those oranges which had
+been thrown at them in the morning from the bosom of her robe. Having
+devoured two of them, Saïd wiped his dripping mouth upon his sleeve and
+felt refreshed. He was preparing to resume his way when the sound of a
+man’s voice close at hand stayed him.
+
+“Praise be to Allah, who has placed such fools in the world! I asked
+for bread, and he gave me meat as well. And when I had finished eating
+he gave me money for my journey. A madman—may Allah reward him!”
+
+The sun through the leafage cast a chequer-work of golden light and
+blue shadow upon the ground. The speaker came towards them, walking
+slowly between the gnarled trunks, with eyes upturned. It was a hale
+old man of sixty years or more, tall and upright. His body was clad in
+a loose robe, whose colour had once been blue, reaching to a little
+below the knee. His bare feet and shins were grey with dust. Upon
+his head was a battered and tasselless fez, with a dirty rag wound
+round it by way of turban. Happening to let his eyes fall a minute
+from their heavenly contemplation, he became aware of the presence of
+fellow-creatures and his whole demeanour changed in a second. His form
+seemed to shrivel and grow less. His head sank down upon his breast,
+his eyes writhed upward so that only the whites of them were visible,
+and his whole body was distorted to a semblance of the last agony.
+
+Stretching forth a trembling hand he besought the pity of his hearers
+for a poor old wretch who found himself alone and without money in a
+strange land.
+
+“Allah will give to you!” he whined. “For the love of Allah, help me
+or I die!… O Lord!… Allah will give to you!… By the Coràn, I am at
+the gate of death!… Allah will give to you!… My sons were killed by
+the Bedawin; my daughters were ravished before my eyes!… Allah is
+bountiful!… O Lord!… I myself have a hand that is withered!… O Lord!…
+My house was destroyed by an earthquake; a thief came in the night and
+stole my mare from me!… Allah will give to you!… My children were slain
+before my eyes!… O Lord!…”
+
+It is likely that he would have gone on whining in this strain for an
+hour or more had not Saïd broken in,—
+
+“Allah will give to thee! I am poor even as thou art. I, too, have
+been robbed and my house brought to ruin. I, too, was once a rich man,
+having flocks and herds, houses and vineyards, ay, and the half of a
+city belonging to me. And now there is no difference between me and
+thee. Allah will give to thee; I have nothing.”
+
+In a twinkling the old beggar resumed his natural shape. His head rose,
+his body straightened, the pupils of his eyes came again into sight.
+
+“Is it true?” he said in a friendly tone, squatting down in the shade
+beside the fisherman. “Then I tell thee thou art happy. All to gain;
+nothing to lose. There is no trade like ours. All the day long we
+cringe, we flatter, we weep, and none can resist us. And afterwards,
+when the evening is come, we laugh and are merry, with eating and
+drinking, with music and women. Behold, I love thee, for thy likeness
+to my son, Mansûr, who forsook me. I feel as a father toward thee. Is
+it a long time that ruin is upon thee?”
+
+“But a few hours, O my uncle,” replied Saïd, bitterly.
+
+The old rascal threw up his hands and cast his sly eyes skyward.
+
+“Ah, it is sad at the first, and thou art downhearted—it is natural.
+But after a few days—a week—a month, thou wilt not envy the greatest
+in the land.”
+
+Saïd was not pleased to have his misfortunes thus lightly treated as
+part of the common lot of mankind. He made haste to explain.
+
+“With another man it would have been a small thing. He would have lost
+a camel, or perhaps a house. But as for me, I was a great man—the
+greatest in all the city. Men ran to kiss my robe as I walked abroad. I
+had camels and horses, asses and mules, more than a man can count in an
+hour. It is no common loss that makes me sad.”
+
+“I suffer with thee,” said the beggar, with a reminiscent shake of his
+head. “I also was lord of great wealth. In those days men knew me by
+the name of Mustafa Bek. Now I am only Mustafa, the old beggar. Allah
+is greatest!”
+
+But Saïd was not to be outdone.
+
+“But yesterday men kissed the ground between my feet,” he said, with
+a shake of the head the counterpart of the other’s. “I was called the
+Emìr Saïd, and none dared come near me save with forehead to the earth.
+Allah is greatest!”
+
+“I had twenty men whose only pleasure was to do my bidding,” said the
+beggar in his turn, “and the beauty of my three wives made the fair
+ones of Paradise jealous.”
+
+“All the men of the city were as slaves before me,” said Saïd; “and if
+I had a desire towards any girl, I had but to command her father and
+she was given to me.”
+
+“And how wast thou deprived of all this?” asked his rival, curiously.
+“Such things do not fade away like stars at the sun’s rising. By Allah,
+they do not go out like a lamp for a puff of wind.”
+
+“My city was by the seashore,” faltered Saïd, after a moment’s
+hesitation. “Last evening, at the hour of sunset, the waters rose and
+swallowed up all that was mine. I and this woman alone remain alive of
+all that were in the city.”
+
+The beggar rose to his feet with a laugh.
+
+“Thou hast yet much to learn, O Emìr,” he said scornfully, yet with a
+certain indulgence. “The sea rises not once in a hundred years, and
+then all the world knows of it. Yesterday, at the hour of sunset, I
+stood by the shore and beheld the sea calm and undisturbed as usual.
+Thou hast much to learn, my son.”
+
+“May thy house be destroyed!” muttered Saïd, grinding his teeth with
+mortification. “How far is it to the next village, old man?”
+
+“Perhaps an hour—maybe an hour and a half—Allah knows!—perhaps two
+hours.”
+
+“Who was that of whom thou wast speaking at the first?” asked Saïd with
+some eagerness. “He gave thee meat, thou wast saying, and money for thy
+journey. Doubtless it is some great one whose house is open to poor
+wayfarers?”
+
+“I spoke but of a Frank who passed me in the way,” said the old man,
+with a chuckle at the recollection. “He was dressed all in black, and
+rode upon a fine horse. I knew him for one of those who preach to the
+Christians and would have all men believe in three gods. I saw him a
+long way off and, when he drew near, I flung myself down in the way,
+swearing horribly, and crying out that Allah had forsaken me. Thereat
+he got down from his horse and tried to comfort me with soft speaking
+and hard words from the book of his religion. But I cursed the louder
+and let him know that I was very hungry; whereupon he drew out a paper
+from his saddle-bags, wherein was bread and meat, which he gave to me.
+
+“When I had made an end of eating I began to weep and told him a
+grievous tale of how my house had been burned and all my children
+killed by Turkish soldiers. This I said knowing that a Frank loves
+always to hear evil of the Turks. He wept with me as he listened. He
+gave me money—as much as a man could earn by the labour of a week.
+Then he mounted and rode away, his face sad from the tale which I had
+told him. May Allah reward the unbelieving fool!”
+
+“Y’Allah! Let us depart at once,” cried Saïd, eagerly. “Perhaps we may
+overtake him before the night.”
+
+“Did I not tell thee that he rides upon a horse, and that a fine one?”
+said the beggar. “Thou canst never hope to overtake him. He told me
+that he was going two days journey on the way to Es-Shâm, to the place
+where he dwells. Whither goest thou?”
+
+“To Es-Shâm,” cried Saïd, gleefully. “I will visit him and tell the
+tale of my great loss. Allah be with thee!”
+
+Saïd set forward through the olive grove at a great pace, Hasneh
+shuffled after him with her usual docility—the good beast of burden,
+ready to stand or go on at her master’s word. As for the beggar, he
+stood looking after them until they were lost to sight among the tree
+trunks. He chuckled often as he went his way, repeating the word “Emìr”
+with scornful emphasis.
+
+Sunset fires were blazing high in the west when Saïd and Hasneh drew
+near to the village of which the beggar had told them. It was a small
+place, built of stone, crowning the utmost slope of the mountain
+seaward. To reach it they had to climb a pebbly road, which wound
+upwards serpent-wise among terraces of fig and olive-trees. At the
+entering in of the village grew a giant sycamore, about whose trunk the
+elders of the place were squatting in solemn conclave, smoking. Saïd
+saluted them politely as they drew near.
+
+“What news?” asked a reverend sheykh, who seemed the head man of the
+place.
+
+“There is war,” replied Saïd, with a low obeisance. “Soldiers scour
+the country for horses and mules. I know it well, alas! for they have
+taken my mare—curse their fathers!—a thoroughbred worth fifty Turkish
+pounds, by Allah!—and I am forced to pursue my journey on foot.”
+
+“Allah restore her to thee,” rejoined the sheykh, fervently. “We
+guessed that all was not well in the land, for this afternoon, as
+my son was ploughing on the hillside yonder, he beheld a company of
+soldiers ride across the plain, and many beasts of burden with them.
+Thanks be to Allah, we are warned in time. Ere the rising of the sun
+all our cattle shall be in a safe place among the hills, save a few
+that are sick, which they can take if it please them.”
+
+Saïd, seeking tidings of the missionary, was told that he had ridden
+through the place about the third hour after noon, and must be sleeping
+at Beyt Ammeh, a mountain village four hours distant.
+
+“Is there a guest-chamber in this village where I and my woman may pass
+the night?” asked Saïd, in some anxiety.
+
+“Thy news is timely and thou art welcome,” replied the sheykh. “My
+house is thy house. Deign to follow me.”
+
+With that he rose and led the way to a house which was larger by a room
+than other houses of the village. This room was built on the roof and
+had the appearance of a tower when seen from a distance. Within, it was
+a small chamber, softly carpeted, with a cushioned divan running round
+the walls, destined for the lodging of guests of distinction. Saïd
+would never have been admitted to its precincts but for that fabulous
+mare of his worth fifty Turkish pounds.
+
+Here, having partaken of a feast such as he had seldom enjoyed, he
+spent the night, a pale sky flaked with stars watching his slumbers
+through open door and lattice.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+In the morning Saïd rose early, and having breakfasted and taken leave
+of his host, set forth with Hasneh in the cool twilight and started
+to climb the steep path which twisted among olive-trees up from the
+village. At the top he paused for a last look at the plain he was
+leaving. Away to the southwest a little promontory jutted into the sea.
+White buildings, a dome and two slender minarets were just discernible
+upon it in the pale light which comes before the sun. That was the
+city of his birth, and there, somewhere on the yellow rim of the bay,
+was his own little house with the fig-tree beside it from which he had
+seen the sun rise morning after morning, year after year. From where he
+now stood he could trace his whole course of the previous day. There,
+midway in the plain, on the crest of a wave of green, was the village
+where his donkey had been taken from him, where he had been stunned by
+that blow of the soldier’s carbine of which the very memory brought
+pain. He knew it from the other villages dotting the landscape by the
+three tall palm-trees tapering above its hovels, like rich plumes in a
+ragamuffin’s cap. There was the olive grove where he had spoken with
+the old beggar. And here, two hundred feet below, at the foot of a
+terraced slope so steep that it seemed easy to throw a stone down on
+to the roof of the sheykh’s house, was the village he had just left.
+His eyes ranged over the prospect, to return always to that white town
+upon the headland which was his birthplace. The sun rose upon the sea
+and the skirts of the plain, though the shadow of the mountains still
+darkened the near villages. Standing at the doorway of his home he
+would have been in the sunlight now. The thought gripped him by the
+throat. A sob from Hasneh told that her mind was straying in the same
+direction. Saïd’s voice was hoarse as he set forward once more, bidding
+her follow him.
+
+The path dipped rapidly to the brink of a rocky gorge, and naked hills
+closed in upon them as they descended. To Saïd it seemed as if a door
+had slammed behind him, shutting off the past. His heart sickened for a
+while.
+
+But the fresh air of the spring morning would not brook despair. In
+spite of himself hope came uppermost as he made his way along the
+rugged mountain side. The beggar’s words kept ringing in his ears:
+All to gain, nothing to lose! He could rob a man now without fear of
+reprisal. He had all the world before him, and bright, keen wits,
+undulled by the least rust of conscience, for a sword against his
+fellow-man. He had nothing to lose, unless—
+
+A thought, which was almost a wish, flitted through his brain. He
+turned his head and let his eyes rest for a minute upon the form of
+Hasneh plodding patiently beneath her burden.
+
+The shadows dwindled with every minute. The dew on the ground rose in
+steam wherever the sun’s rays touched it. For long they trudged on
+in a land of mountains barren and rocky. Overhead the deep blue sky
+paled about a blinding sun. Not a tree was to be seen. The distance
+swam before them in streams of heat. The sound of Hasneh’s breathing
+was like the panting of a dog at his heels. In the shade of a great
+rock they sat down to rest. All around them, between the boulders,
+anemones held out scarlet cups to the sun. Small pink flowers filled
+the crannies of the rocks. Here and there, from its clump of dark-green
+leaves, a tall spear of asphodel stood up, bristling with buds. Saïd
+eyed the scene with disgust as he mopped his forehead with one hand.
+
+“By the Coràn, it is hot to-day,” he muttered. “And there is no water
+until we come to Beyt Ammeh.”
+
+Hasneh thrust a hand into her bosom and drew forth the few oranges
+which were left. Saïd seized one and devoured it greedily. A second
+went the same way. By the time his thirst was slaked but one remained,
+which Hasneh, despite the craving of her dry lips and throat, put back
+within her robe.
+
+They set forward once more and had not made many steps before a man met
+them, asleep on the hump of a camel. Saïd called to him to know the
+way; whereat he awoke with a start, lost balance, and fell heavily on
+the stones by the wayside. He staggered to his feet, blood streaming
+from a wound in his forehead. Cursing bitterly, he caught up a big
+stone and hurled it at Saïd, who dodged it narrowly and, without
+waiting for further provocation, rushed on his assailant and closed
+with him. Hasneh shrieked loudly for help, wakening vain echoes. The
+camel, nose in air, chewed the cud placidly, as a wise man smokes his
+pipe, with a downward, supercilious glance at the fighters.
+
+Victory did not hang long in the balance. Saïd was a tall man, lean and
+wiry, while his opponent was short and hampered with fat. The fisherman
+forced him backward until he tripped on a boulder and fell. Then he set
+foot on the belly of the fallen one and raised his staff to strike at
+the face of his enemy. Fury blazed in his eyes.
+
+“Stay! may thy religion be destroyed!” panted the camel-driver in a
+rapture of fear. “What am I to thee that thou shouldest slay me? Thou
+art a devil to cause me to fall and then to destroy me! May thy father
+perish! Strike not; I am no enemy of thine! I never beheld thee till
+this hour!”
+
+Saïd lowered his stick, but his brow was still clouded and his posture
+threatening.
+
+“Take away thy foot!” gasped the other. “What have I done that thou
+dost so ill-treat me? All that I have is thine, only spare my life!”
+
+Saïd did not budge.
+
+“A man’s life is worth much,” he said thoughtfully. “How much wilt thou
+give me?”
+
+“May thy whole race perish! I will give thee all that I have—ten
+piastres.”
+
+“Not enough.” Saïd’s foot pressed more heavily upon the mound of flesh.
+
+“Twenty—thirty piastres!” shrieked the man.
+
+“Not enough.”
+
+“A Turkish pound!… By Allah, it is all that I have. And it is my
+master’s money, not my own. Alas for me, I am ruined!”
+
+Saïd withdrew his foot.
+
+“Rise not until thou hast paid the ransom or I will slay thee,” he said
+savagely.
+
+The man loosened his garment, showing a linen bag which hung by a
+string from his neck. Slipping the cord over his head he flung the bag
+to Saïd with a curse. The fisherman examined the contents in a kind of
+dotage, then nodded to the hostage.
+
+“It is well,” he said. “Go in peace. And another time, when thou
+fallest by chance from thy camel, throw no stones at those who stand by
+lest a worse thing befall thee.”
+
+Calling to Hasneh, he strode on his way with a light heart, leaving
+the camel-driver to digest the gall of his loss as best he might. They
+had gone some twenty paces when a noise of mighty cursing filled the
+air behind them. At the same moment a great stone came whizzing within
+a foot of Saïd’s head. Another struck Hasneh on the back, causing her
+to stagger and fall forward. Saïd girded up his loins and ran until he
+was beyond the utmost range of any missile. Then he got upon a rock
+and began to revile his assailant in a loud voice, using his hand as
+a trumpet. He watched the wretched man climb upon his camel again and
+heard the scream of rage and hate with which he turned to shake a fist
+at his plunderer. The fisherman laughed aloud and ceased not from
+insulting his enemy until a shoulder of the mountain hid camel and
+rider from sight.
+
+Hasneh had struggled to her feet by this time and was making her
+way towards him, stumbling, one arm hugging her bundle, the other
+outstretched, like one walking in the dark. He cried to her to know if
+she were hurt. Her answer was in the negative, but faintly and without
+conviction. Saïd waited until she was within a few yards of him and
+then pursued his way, chuckling over his own cleverness in turning what
+had once seemed a misadventure to good account. The linen bag nestled
+lovingly to his chest, seeming to recognise a worthier owner.
+
+All to gain, nothing to lose ….
+
+He could no longer apply the words strictly to himself. Nevertheless,
+they rang hopefully in his ears, seeming to tell him that the sum he
+had just acquired was but an earnest of the wealth in store for him.
+
+The sun was almost at the zenith when they came in sight of the village
+of Beyt Ammeh; for the great heat oppressed them and they walked
+slowly, taking frequent rests. The squat, flat-roofed houses were
+hardly to be made out at a distance, so little did they differ in form
+and colour from the surrounding rocks. Only a few ragged fig-trees and
+a thankless striving after cultivation in the immediate neighbourhood
+told of a dwelling-place of man.
+
+On the outskirts of the village, just below the ringed
+threshing-floors, a spring gushed out beneath a ruinous arch by the
+wayside. Flat-topped stones had been placed in the shadow to serve as
+seats to wayfarers. Here Saïd stopped, and after a long, refreshing
+drink proceeded to bathe his head, hands and feet. Hasneh sank down
+upon a stone with hand pressed at her side, waiting patiently until
+her lord should have done with the water. Then she rose, took one step
+forward, staggered, and, with hands outstretched to the fountain, fell
+heavily upon her face.
+
+For full three minutes Saïd stared down at her blankly. Such behaviour
+was quite beyond the cycle of his experience. At last he bethought him
+of the cold water and began to dash it over her wildly with both hands.
+
+Then, as she did not move, he concluded her dead and sat down to
+try and get used to the notion. He was engaged thus, staring at the
+lifeless form of the woman at his feet, when a shadow darkened the
+ground before him. At the same moment a quavering voice asked to know
+what was the matter. Lost in reflection, Saïd had not heard the patter
+of feet drawing near.
+
+Alarmed by the suddenness of the apparition, he leapt up with a curse.
+An old woman stood before him, bent almost double beneath a heavy
+burden. Her head nodded, her limbs quaked with palsy. Her jaw working
+like a camel’s, she repeated the question in a shriller tone as Saïd
+stared at her with wide-open eyes.
+
+“It is my woman who is dead,” said the fisherman, ruefully, pointing to
+the ground.
+
+“How dost thou know that she is dead?” asked the old hag, in scorn. “As
+I came out from the village I saw her fall, and would have run to help
+her but that I am very old and feeble. But I watched thee. Thou hast
+done nothing more than throw a little water upon her clothes. Turn her
+over, madman, so that she lies upon her back.”
+
+Something in the manner of the old woman daunted Saïd and made him
+ashamed. He had not done much to revive Hasneh, it was true; but then,
+he had supposed her dead, and none but a fool would wantonly waste his
+time in trying to bring a dead woman back to life. He had now little
+doubt that she lived, thanks to the old woman’s scornful suggestions.
+In his heart he cursed the crone for breaking in upon him just when he
+had brought his mind to a peaceful contemplation of his wife’s dead
+body. Yet he obeyed her, and, lifting Hasneh in his arms, laid her down
+again, face uppermost.
+
+“Now sprinkle water upon her lips!”
+
+Saïd obeyed a second time, with the result that after a little while
+Hasneh opened her eyes.
+
+“Take her up and bear her to the village! Thou hast no more mind
+than a donkey!” piped the hag, in shrillest scorn, seeing him stand
+purposeless.
+
+The shame Saïd felt at having his actions ordered by a woman found
+vent in a hearty curse on her, her religion and all her belongings.
+Nevertheless, he did as he was bidden, and taking Hasneh in his arms
+entered the village, grumbling at every step.
+
+At the threshold of one of the hovels, on the edge of the sunlight, sat
+a woman grinding at a small handmill. Saïd called to her that his wife
+had fallen sick and needed rest. She rose at once from her business
+to bid him enter and welcome. The darkness of the room within was
+refreshing after the scorching glare of noon. A man rose from a squalid
+couch against the wall and greeted Saïd in a sleepy voice. He waved a
+hand to the dirty mattress he had quitted, and then to the woman in the
+fisherman’s arms.
+
+“May Allah increase thy wealth!” murmured Saïd, laying down his burden
+upon the bed.
+
+“Leave a woman to the care of a woman,” said the man of the house,
+beckoning him to the doorway. “This woman of mine will tend her and,
+after a little, we will drink some coffee.”
+
+Saïd squatted down beside his host, just within the shadow of the room.
+The outlook was of stony hills whitening under the burning noonday
+sky, and in the foreground the low mud roofs of the village in broken
+terraces.
+
+“Whence comest thou?” asked the lord of the house, after a silence
+spent in the rolling and lighting of cigarettes. Saïd told him the name
+of the village where he had passed the night.
+
+“Didst thou meet any man by the way?” he asked with sudden interest.
+“My brother—his name is Farûn—set out this morning on the road to the
+plain. He is a short man and very fat. He rides upon a camel laden with
+stone. Hast seen him?”
+
+“Yes, I saw him,” replied Saïd, thoughtfully, as one recalling a
+picture to his mind. “He was sitting by the wayside and blood streamed
+from a wound in his head. His camel strayed browsing at a little
+distance. He told me that robbers had fallen suddenly upon him in the
+way. They had taken all that he had of money. They had beaten him with
+a stick and stoned him. I helped him to bind up his wound and gave him
+of my money—all that I could spare. Then I saw him mount upon his
+camel and ride away. He bade me tell his brother what had befallen him
+when I should reach this village. The sickness of my woman had ousted
+it from my mind till now.”
+
+“Now, may Allah requite thee, for thou art a good man and bountiful!”
+said the other, with eyes and hands upraised. “I hold thee as my near
+kinsman for this kindness done to my brother. My house is thy house.
+Rest here to-night, I pray thee. To-morrow, about the third hour, my
+brother will return. Abide with us till then that he may thank thee
+once again. By Allah, I think he would slay me were I to suffer thee to
+go thy way unfeasted. Stay at least till the evening. Seeing the mishap
+which has befallen him it may well be he will return ere night. By the
+Coràn, it is lucky that the robbers did not take his camel also!”
+
+“I cannot stay,” said Saïd hurriedly. “My brother is dead in
+Damashc-esh-Shâm and I go to claim the inheritance. I must hasten on my
+way.”
+
+“If not for thine own sake, for the sake of thy woman abide here till
+evening,” urged the host.
+
+Saïd appeared wrapt in thought for some minutes. His face was moody
+with knitted brows. Of a sudden it brightened.
+
+“For myself, I cannot stay,” he said. “But it were well for my woman
+that she should rest a while till the sickness leave her ….”
+
+His eyes looked eager inquiry at the other.
+
+“She is welcome and more than welcome!” cried the host, without
+hesitation.
+
+“May Allah increase thy wealth!” murmured Saïd, fervently, making a
+low salaam. “When I come to the city I will send to fetch her, and thy
+reward shall be very great. Think not because thou seest me poorly clad
+that thou art showing kindness to a beggar. My brother was rich and I
+go to claim the inheritance.”
+
+He glanced furtively towards the couch, in fear lest Hasneh should have
+heard anything of his speech. But her eyes were closed, and her bosom’s
+rise and fall was of one in a peaceful sleep, gentle and even. Her
+robe hung open at the neck showing something round and yellow nestling
+in the soft brown hollow between her breasts. It was the orange which
+she had forborne to eat that morning. The sight of it in the bosom of
+the sleeping woman warmed Saïd’s heart to something like pity. It was
+an appeal to his good nature, the stronger for being voiceless. For a
+moment his purpose was shaken.
+
+“All to gain: nothing to lose!”
+
+His heart hardened as he recalled the words of the old beggar. There
+was a glint of steel in his eyes as he turned them once more upon his
+host.
+
+“It is past noon,” he said. “In thy grace I depart. Take care of the
+woman belonging to me and thy reward shall be great. May thy wealth
+increase!”
+
+“My peace with thee!” said the man, staring at him with amazement. “But
+stay at least until thou hast drunk coffee with us. See! it is almost
+ready.”
+
+Saïd dared not break the law of hospitality. He waited, fidgety, and
+ill at ease like one sitting upon a red-hot iron. He shifted his seat
+continually, and his eyes kept veering round to where Hasneh lay
+asleep, yet never looked at her. When at length a tiny cup of coffee
+was put into his hand he flung his head back and swallowed the whole
+contents at a gulp. Then he pressed both hands to his chest and his
+whole body writhed. He had forgotten in his haste to drink and be gone
+that the stuff was scalding hot. Tears streamed from his eyes, sweat
+stood in great beads on his forehead as he set down the empty cup and
+rose to take his leave.
+
+“Thou art a fire-eater, by Allah!” cried the lord of the house, staring
+aghast at him, cup in hand. “Why art thou in so great a hurry? A minute
+or two will not rob thee of thy inheritance, and the heat of the day is
+not yet past.”
+
+But Saïd was more eager than ever to be off. Glancing fearfully in
+the direction of the bed he had seen Hasneh open her eyes and stare
+vacantly about her.
+
+“Take all care of her, and may Allah prosper thee!” he muttered
+hurriedly, crossing the threshold and dodging behind the doorpost.
+“After a week I shall send to thee. Allah requite thee, O father of
+kindness!”
+
+He set off at a great pace, spurred by the thought that Hasneh might
+discover the trick played on her and come running after him.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+At the village where he passed the night, a village half-way down a
+mountain side, terraced and fledged with olive-trees, which looked over
+a wide stretch of flat country, Saïd gleaned tidings of the missionary
+of whom he hoped so much. The man in black had ridden through the place
+before noon and was gone to his house in the plain, an hour’s journey
+beyond. His heart was light when he set out in the morning. Far away
+across the plain, mountains—the hugest he had ever seen—were dreamy
+in the mists of early dawn. A white gleam of snow among their summits
+was new to him, and would have held his eyes but for the nearer charms
+of a red-roofed house in the plain below, where a blessed fool dwelt
+and a man could have money for the asking. Thanks to the hospitality of
+the villagers, the Turkish pound was still untouched in the linen bag
+upon his chest. With what he hoped to obtain from the preacher he would
+enter the great city in triumph instead of beggary.
+
+The sun was already hot upon the plain when he reached the house of
+the Frank. A tall negro, clad in a flowing robe of yellow and white,
+finely striped, with a clean white turban, bound about his scarlet fez,
+was sweeping the doorstep with a broom. Saïd wished him a happy day,
+and sitting down upon his heels—for the ground was dewy—disposed
+himself for a chat. But the negro was gruff. All Saïd’s compliments
+were returned as curtly as the barest politeness would allow, and his
+leading questions answered by an “Allah knows!” and a shrug of the
+shoulders far from satisfying.
+
+Finding that there was nothing to be gained by flattering the surly
+doorkeeper, the fisherman changed his tone. Rising to his feet, he
+cried, in a loud voice, meant to sound like thunder, “Go, tell thy
+master that I wish to speak with him!”
+
+The negro paused in his sweeping to look at him and laughed, showing
+two rows of dazzingly white teeth.
+
+“My master sleeps,” he said. “Thou knowest little of the ways of a
+Frank if thou thoughtest to speak with him at this hour.”
+
+“At what hour will he awake?” asked Saïd in the same lofty tone.
+
+“Allah knows!” replied the negro, with a shrug, going on with his
+sweeping.
+
+Saïd squatted down once more upon his heels.
+
+“I wait here till he is ready!”
+
+The negro grinned angrily and indicated the vastness of the horizon by
+a flourish of his broom.
+
+“Walk!” he said grimly.
+
+Saïd seemed not to understand.
+
+“Walk!” repeated the negro, fiercely, rushing upon him with broom
+upraised.
+
+With a scared curse Saïd scrambled to his feet and bounded away, swift
+as a gazelle in fear of the hunter. The negro stood looking after him,
+his bosom still threatening, until the flutter of a blue robe and the
+twinkle of brown legs were lost to sight among the knotted trunks of an
+olive grove.
+
+As soon as he thought himself safe Saïd flung himself upon the ground,
+panting for breath. A pair of doves fluttered somewhere among the
+branches, cooing sadly over a lost paradise. The sunlight made its
+way here and there through the leafage in bars of golden haze. A
+sound, made up of the barking of a dog, the cries of children and the
+musical clink of a hammer on iron, told him that there was a village
+somewhere in the depths of the wood. The grating song of the cicadas,
+that waxed and waned in his throbbing ears, seemed the live spirits
+of the sunlight stirring in the shade. Warm breaths, the sweet steam
+from dew-drenched plants and moistened earth, rustled the leaves and
+silvered them faintly.
+
+“May his father perish!” muttered Saïd between his clenched teeth—a
+sign that his breath was returning.
+
+A little later, when he had ceased panting, he crept to the edge of
+the sunshine. Keeping his body hid behind the widespread trunk of an
+ancient olive he peeped forth.
+
+At a stone’s throw the house of the missionary rose sheer amid a waste
+of rank grass and thistles traversed by a bridle-path. Beyond rose the
+mountain side, filmy in a bluish heat-mist. Halfway up Saïd descried
+the place where he had slept, a cluster of low buildings of the same
+hue as the neighbouring rocks, seeming as natural a growth as they.
+
+The negro had left the doorway ere this, and was gone out of sight to
+some other place where was need of his broom. But Saïd dared not yet
+step forth into the open, an impression of the black man’s strength of
+limb and the broom’s menace being fresh upon him. He watched and waited.
+
+Soon there were signs of a stirring to life within the house. The
+shutters of an upper window were closed against the sun by an arm
+thrust out for the purpose. At the same time a man’s head was seen for
+a moment. Then a little boy with thin brown legs came out of the olive
+wood, passing close to Saïd but without seeing him. He must have come
+from the village near at hand for he carried a big pitcher of milk
+easily and without fatigue. He passed round a corner of the house, and
+shortly returned swinging the empty pitcher. Windows were opened. A
+shrill Arab chant in a woman’s voice came from some lower room. How
+many servants had this accursed unbeliever? Saïd wondered.
+
+Presently, just as he was thinking of trying his luck once more, the
+negro being nowhere to be seen, a tall Frank, clad all in black save
+his arms, which were in white sleeves, appeared in the gloom of the
+doorway and shouted, “Cassim!”
+
+Saïd had taken a step forward, with intent to rush across the
+intervening space and fling himself at the blessed madman’s feet, when
+the reappearance of his enemy made him shrink back. The man in black
+seemed to be giving an order, to which the negro bowed assent. Then
+Saïd saw the Frank re-enter the house, while the servant ran round to
+the back of the building.
+
+The coast was clear once more. But the second coming of the negro to
+thwart him had made Saïd cautious. Choosing what he deemed the wise
+man’s part, he watched still and waited. But after a few minutes the
+negro returned, leading a handsome grey stallion by the bridle, when
+Saïd had the vexation of seeing the missionary mount and ride away.
+His parting charge to the black servant, shouted as the restive horse
+broke into a canter, reached Saïd’s ears distinctly through the still,
+sounding air.
+
+“I return at sundown, O Cassim! Tell the people there will be no school
+to-day!”
+
+The negro stood awhile looking after the horseman. Then he turned and,
+going about his business, passed once more out of sight.
+
+Saïd flung himself down in the deep shadow behind his tree trunk,
+calling down every ill he could think of upon the Frank and all his
+race. The tall negro also was not forgotten in that all-embracing
+curse, nor his father, nor his grandfather; not so much as an aunt or a
+cousin was left out. Then, feeling better, he began to sound the depths
+of his disappointment.
+
+From the time of his meeting with the old beggar he had looked to the
+bounty of the Frankish missionary as a traveller in the waste looks
+forward to the place of waters. He snarled as he thought that he might
+have gained his end and gone rejoicing on his way but for the selfish
+devil that kept the door, who guarded the well for his own use. Now he
+must leave the place as he had come, with only a single Turkish pound
+in the linen bag against his chest. It was nothing beside what he had
+hoped to get from the mad preacher of unbelief. He had no mind to stay
+there till nightfall on the slender chance of eluding the watchfulness
+of the negro and winning the ear of his master. The city called him
+with a siren’s voice. There, in the vast bustling hive, were wondrous
+chances for a young man and a strong who had nothing to lose. There
+were women fairer and sweeter than Hasneh—young girls, perhaps, pure
+as lily buds, who would tremble and wax faint at a kiss. He licked his
+lips softly.
+
+A sound of footsteps close at hand startled him out of a languorous
+dream. It was the negro, who, unobserved of Saïd, had crossed the open
+space of sunlight and was threading his way among the gnarled trunks of
+the grove, a large basket on his arm. He passed within twelve paces of
+the fisherman, but without perceiving him, so still he lay.
+
+Then a thought came to Saïd. Now that the enemy was gone what was
+to hinder him from entering the house and viewing for himself the
+splendour which must assuredly reign within? From all he had seen and
+heard during his long watch it was unlikely that the unbeliever had
+more than one manservant. There would be none but women in the house;
+and if one of them should surprise him and ask what he did there, he
+had only to tell her of his wish to speak with the Frank, her master.
+He stole from his lair and stepped out into the sunlight.
+
+The silence of the place, with all those windows gazing so fixedly at
+him, was a little daunting at first, so that he advanced warily. It
+seemed as if a shout must come from the open door, which looked so like
+a mouth. But when he had made a few paces unchallenged courage returned
+to him. The Arab chant he had before heard came faintly from some room
+at the back. But for that, and a great cat blinking to sleep on a
+window-sill, the place seemed desolate.
+
+Slipping off his shoes on the doorstep he passed swiftly into the cool
+gloom within. There was a sort of hall, wide and lofty, having two
+windows, one on either side of the entrance. Upon a table in the midst
+of it lay the remains of a feast—broken bread and meat, a plate of
+oranges and a bowl half empty of curds, besides a great cup and saucer
+and two white jugs of an outlandish fashion. Facing him, beyond the
+table, were two doors, both shut, from behind one of which the sounds
+of chanting seemed to proceed. He stole past the table, his bare feet
+making no noise on the stone pavement or the matting which was over
+part of it. There was a stairway in a recess to the right. He mounted
+swiftly and stealthily.
+
+At the top an open door attracted him. It showed a room with a bed in
+it and soft rugs upon the floor. Saïd went straight to the bed and fell
+to examining its framework, sitting on his heels and exclaiming, “Ma
+sh’Allah!” under his breath. It was almost like a table standing on six
+iron legs; but four of the legs reached above it as well as below, and
+each of the four was crowned with a little knob, like an orange, of
+some burnished yellow metal he took for gold. A wonderful thing! It was
+long ere he could tear himself away from the marvel.
+
+The room was cool and pleasant, shaded from the sun, which beat on that
+side of the house, by the shutters of the window, which were closed.
+Upon a small table there was a mirror. He saw his counterpart for a
+minute without recognition. Then he grinned, and scanned the face in
+the glass with complacency. From a peg beside the door hung a long
+garment of brown stuff, soft as wool, yet thick and strong as if it had
+been of camel’s hair. It was braided with red at the collar and on the
+sleeves, and a red cord dangled from a loop in the middle, ending in
+two red tassels. Above it, on a nail, was a scarlet fez, of the high
+shape worn by Turks and great ones.
+
+Saïd took off his own cap and the encircling turban which old ties of
+dirt and perspiration had made of one piece with it. The back of his
+shaven head, thus laid bare, was reflected in the looking-glass, the
+ears standing out from it huge and grotesque as those of a jinni. He
+eyed his ancient head-dress with disgust. The round tarbûsh, shaped
+like the half of a pomegranate, with its clumsy tassel which had once
+been blue, appeared a sorry thing indeed as he looked from it to the
+new scarlet of that other cap. His raiment, too, was old and stained,
+in need of a cloak to hide its shortcomings. Taking down the brown robe
+from the wall he turned it about and about, seeking the holes for the
+arms. Then he slipped into it and, setting the scarlet fez upon his
+head, went back to the mirror.
+
+He noticed a fault. The fez, being used to cover a thick crop of hair,
+was too large for his shorn poll. His ears alone prevented it from
+putting out the light of his countenance. He cast about for a remedy.
+There was upon the table a small white cloth or kerchief of finest
+linen. This he made to serve his turn by twisting it tight round cap
+and forehead as a turban. That done, he grinned freely and examined
+other objects upon the table. Among them was a picture of a girl,
+clad indecently after the manner of the Franks. Saïd eyed it closely,
+wondering what purpose it could serve. Then he remembered that the
+Franks are but idolaters, who worship pictures and other forbidden
+things of their own making. “It is his god, by Allah!” he muttered,
+turning away with a gesture of disdain. Before leaving the room he
+cast his discarded headgear upon the bed with a parting curse on its
+religion.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+As Saïd was making his way downstairs, with less of caution than he had
+observed in his ascent (the joy of his new finery had elated him beyond
+all prudence), a door was opened in the hall below and a woman came
+out. Beholding him she drew her veil hastily across the lower part of
+her face. Her eyes were bright and her movements had the grace of youth.
+
+“Who art thou? What dost thou here?” she cried shrilly. “The khawaja
+is on a journey and Cassim is gone to the village. I am alone in the
+house, the old woman, my mother, being ill. If perchance thou hast an
+errand to my master I can give word to him on his return.”
+
+Of a sudden her voice rose to anger.
+
+“Allah, pardon! Where gottest thou that cloak? Thief that thou art!
+It is the robe of my lord, which hangs always in his own chamber. O
+Cassim, there is a thief in the house! A thief! O Cassim, a thief!”
+
+She ran screaming to the outer door and opened her mouth wide towards
+the olive grove, crying always, “O Cassim! O Cassim! A thief! a thief!”
+
+Saïd rushed on her and pinioned her arms.
+
+He tried to fling her to the ground, but she struggled like a mad
+thing, and at length, bending swiftly, with the yell of a wild beast,
+bit the fisherman’s hand so that he cried out with pain. Need to look
+at the wound made him loose his hold, whereupon she broke away and fled
+within the house, barring a door behind her.
+
+Saïd frowned at the marks of her teeth in his flesh, from which the
+blood began to ooze. He put the place to his mouth and sucked it—an
+act which prevented a storm of curses. And even as he was tending his
+wound in such a manner as Nature prompted, the screams of the woman
+broke out anew, as of one in a frenzy,—
+
+“O Cassim! Help! a thief! O Cassim! O Cassim!”
+
+This time there came an answering shout from the olive grove.
+
+Turning, he beheld the negro running towards the house as fast as his
+long black legs could carry him. Saïd snatched up his slippers from
+the doorstep. With the spring of a hunted animal he leapt out into
+the sunlight, and gathering up his new robe, sped away from house and
+olive-trees, out into the wide plain, where hot air swam along the
+distance in liquid mist.
+
+Once he turned to look back. The negro had set down his basket and
+was pursuing at a steady trot which meant business. Saïd fled on,
+but with slackened pace. He had need to husband his breath, for the
+race was like to be a long one. Panting, sweating from every pore, he
+stumbled across a wady where a little freshet of water tinkled among
+boulders from pool to pool. Brushing through the belt of oleanders on
+the further bank, he ran on across the bare land, trampling rank grass,
+thistles and creeping plants.
+
+But the negro had long legs. Saïd learnt, by the growing beat of
+footfalls in his ears, that he was losing ground. Soon he could hear
+also the hard breathing of his pursuer. He made a spirt, though his
+heart was near to breaking, it thumped so against his ribs.
+
+“Allah is merciful!” He had almost fallen into a deep hole, overgrown
+with weeds at the mouth—a disused cistern, it might be. He had
+lengthened his stride only just in time. A piteous shriek came from
+behind him. He turned to glance back, still running. The black was
+nowhere to be seen. He dropped to the ground, pressing his hand on his
+heart. “Praise to Allah!” he gasped, and then lay still, panting.
+
+The sun beat hotly upon him there in the open plain. He longed for some
+patch of shade, were it but of a shrub, enough to shelter his head and
+face. Only a few paces distant a lonely carub-tree of great size spread
+its gnarled boughs and glossy dark foliage over a rough pavement—a
+pious foundation for the repose of travellers. Saïd dragged himself
+thither and lay a great while with eyes closed.
+
+“Praise be to Allah!” he exclaimed again, when breath had quite
+returned. Then he bethought him of the black man and that the hole
+might be of no great depth after all. He rose and went to the place.
+
+While he was searching among weeds and dwarf shrubs for the mouth of
+the pit he saw a black hand come up out of the ground and clutch the
+stalk of a big blue thistle. Then he regretted bitterly that he had
+flung away his staff lest it should prove a hindrance in running. For
+want of it he took a jagged stone in his hand and beat viciously with
+it upon the bony parts of the fingers. The desired yell at once reached
+his ears, and the hand was nimble as a lizard to slip back into its
+hole. Then Saïd, lying flat upon his stomach, wriggled forward until he
+could look down into the prison. There was his enemy standing upright
+in a narrow place like a well, but dry to all appearance. By stretching
+down his arm he could almost have touched the negro’s white turban.
+Cassim glared up at him with white eyes of hate. Saïd could hear him
+grind his teeth for rage of helplessness.
+
+He looked forth over the wide brown plain with faint blue mountains
+everywhere along the sky-line, and back to where the house of the Frank
+at the foot of the hill was like a tiny white box shut tight with a
+high red lid.
+
+Then peering again into the hole, he laughed aloud.
+
+“Is it cool down there, O son of a pig?” he inquired. “By Allah, thou
+art well housed and I envy thee. Up here I am roasting in the noonday,
+whilst thou, within arm’s length of me, dost enjoy the cool of night.
+There is a road not far from thy dwelling, O foul scion of a race of
+swine; also a great tree where travellers may rest in the shade. But
+for all that, help is far from thee. Men will take fright at thy cries,
+coming from under the earth, and will fly swiftly as from a place of
+sin. I have it in my mind, thou dog, to drop earth down on thee and
+stones, and so bury thee. What sayest thou, ugly one? It would give me
+joy to defile thy grave!”
+
+Of a sudden the negro made a great leap with hand upstretched. His
+nails grazed Saïd’s face, causing him to draw back in alarm.
+
+“Curse thy father, son of a dog that thou art!” came a terrible voice
+from the pit. “May thy life be cut short! May all thy children rot, and
+thy woman betray thee to an enemy!”
+
+“A wise man gives fair words to his master,” retorted Saïd, and his
+voice was like a leopard’s paw, so soft yet dangerous. “What art thou
+to me that I should delay to slay thee? At my elbow there is a nice
+stone which would break thy head as it were an egg. Speak smoothly to
+thy master, O Cassim, son of a pig!”
+
+A fresh outbreak of cursing answered from the hole. Then Saïd reflected
+that he had wasted time enough in play by the wayside. The shadow of
+the carub-tree, lying like a blot of ink upon the whitening land,
+tempted him to rest there yet a little while. But two fears urged him
+onward. The negro might in the end get out of the hole, when Saïd could
+hope for no mercy if caught napping thereabouts; and the woman he had
+assailed, alarmed at Cassim’s non-appearance, would soon raise the
+hue-and-cry, if she had not already done so.
+
+Saïd knew that his road lay towards those faint blue distant mountains
+with the whiteness among their crests, and there his knowledge ended.
+The plain stretched burning and treeless in that direction, but at a
+point far away a ripple of foliage broke the level. He could make out
+the shape of a palm-tree, seeming of no more substance than a blade of
+grass, so distant it was, and the quiver of hot air between. Palms do
+not grow solitary like weeds or carub-trees. A village was therefore
+near it, where he could inquire his road more perfectly. There remained
+only to take farewell of the prisoner.
+
+He drew near once more to the mouth of the pit. With a look of
+concentration he leaned over and spat full in the upturned face of the
+negro. Then he rose lightly and went his way.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+It was towards evening when Saïd left the place where, weary from
+long walking in the fierce eye of noon, he had sought shelter and
+refreshment. A crowd of men, women and children—all who dwelt in
+that place—went out with him from among the hovels as far as a tall
+palm-tree, which crowned a smooth hillock green with grass. In the
+midst of the obsequious rabble Saïd strutted a king, distinguished as
+he was by the missionary’s brown dressing-gown, braided conspicuously
+with red, and girt about the waist with a red and tasselled cord; not
+to speak of the new scarlet fez bound to his head by a turban of more
+than human cleanness.
+
+Arrived at the palm-tree, all the villagers pressed forward to kiss his
+hand or, it might be, only the skirt of his wondrous robe. The glory
+of his raiment had enthralled them at his coming, and in the first
+rapture of greatness, in the joy of their cringing and flattery, he had
+promised to see that all their wrongs and grievances were presently
+redressed.
+
+So he strode on his way with their blessings, turning ever and anon,
+with a gracious gesture, to look back at the squalid crowd of fellahìn,
+who stood grouped about the palm-tree, looking after him with hands
+shading their eyes. His brain was on fire with arrogance. Every herb on
+which he trod marked a new act of condescension. The whole earth fell
+down before him. The sun burned for him alone. Trees and shrubs cast
+their shadows like garments in his path.
+
+But by-and-by, as the village shrank in distance, the vapours besetting
+his brain began to disperse. His legs were stiff from his race of the
+forenoon. He longed for a horse to carry him at ease, and the wish did
+much to sober him. A great one does not travel on foot, neither does he
+wander from home in the heat of the day without at least a sunshade in
+his hand, if not a servant to hold it over him. Sudden shame came upon
+him like an ague. The villagers would discuss his appearance now that
+he was gone, and remembering that he had neither horse nor servant, not
+so much as a parasol, would perceive their own folly and curse him for
+an impostor. At that he quickened his step so as to be far from a place
+where he must shortly be held in derision.
+
+The violet mountains, which had seemed so far away in the morning, were
+now nearer to him than those others from whose base he had set out.
+The sun, a disc of flame, was sinking down on the uttermost rim of the
+plain. Shadows were no longer dense and inky under every object, but
+stretched long and blue to eastward, growing with every minute. Far
+away across the flat Saïd was aware of a thin bright line, vague and
+dreamy beneath the setting sun. On that side was the sea. He grew sad
+as he recalled his little house among the sandhills. The cool breeze of
+evening was stirring the great leaves of his fig-tree even now.
+
+As he pondered on things past a spirit awoke within him and showed him
+Abdullah in a new light. He stood still, as if gripped by a sudden
+twinge of pain. Stretching forth his hands to Heaven he bade Allah
+witness the trust he had ever placed in his friend and partner, and the
+consequent enormity of the fraud. In the first frenzy he thought to
+retrace his steps, to walk day and night without respite, until he had
+slain the treacherous liar. He even took a dreadful oath before Allah
+to that effect. But his mind soon changed. There was an evil report of
+him all along the way by which he had come. He felt ashamed because
+of Hasneh, and feared to see her face again. And the great city lay
+before him, where Allah alone knew what joys might be in store for him.
+Nevertheless, he made a vow: that, when he had achieved the greatness
+of his hopes, he would return to his native town riding upon a horse,
+with a company of horsemen, his servants, and would cause Abdullah
+to be whipped in his sight with a lash set thickly with sharp nails;
+and then, when his enemy lay bleeding and faint at his feet, he would
+recite the story of his crime aloud for all men to hear. And at last,
+to make vengeance complete, he would spurn his enemy with his foot and
+gallop off with his servants in a cloud of dust.
+
+Twilight was closing swiftly into night when Saïd reached a place where
+was a well in the shade among some olive-trees, and hard by a low,
+flat-roofed house, from whose open door and window a faint red light
+flickered upon the trampled ground.
+
+“Praise be to Allah—a khan!” he murmured, espying the forms of two
+men smoking on stools before the door. Tethered to the nearest tree, a
+horse, which appeared black in the half light, was munching steadfastly
+in a wooden trough. The saddle was still on its back, though the girth
+was unfastened and dangling.
+
+The two who sat smoking by the door rose courteously at the approach of
+a stranger. Saïd returned their salutation as though it had come from
+the dirt beneath his feet. He removed a stool to a seemly distance from
+them and sat down, calling impatiently for food and drink.
+
+“My horse is fallen by the way,” he cried in a loud voice, for the
+enlightenment of all who might be in the house. “I bade my men stay to
+tend the beast, having yet hopes that he may recover. A good horse, by
+Allah, which I bought for fifty Turkish pounds, but I would not part
+with it for a hundred. In a little while they will be here, if they
+lose not their way in the darkness, which is very possible, their mind
+being little as the mind of a sheep.”
+
+At the sound of that high speech the master of the khan appeared—a
+tall, black shape on the glow of the doorway. Behind him other dark
+forms were discernible—a cluster of heads, some turbanded, others
+draped in a shawl bound about the temples with a rope of camel’s hair.
+
+Saïd was not pleased to find the khan so full of people. In such a
+crowd there might well be some great one who might expose him. The
+fear was vague but sickening. It was speedily laid to rest. A ray of
+firelight played on Saïd’s sleeve, showing the fine red braiding, when
+an awe-stricken murmur spread among the group at the door. It made him
+smile in his beard.
+
+“What is thy will, effendi? All that I have is thine,” said the owner
+of the house, coming forward with a deep obeisance. “Deign but to
+enter the room. It is my shame that I have no meat to set before your
+Eminence. But condescend to wait a little and my woman shall slay a
+fowl ….”
+
+“I have little hunger, I thank thee, and I prefer the open air,” broke
+in Saïd, loftily. “I do but await the men belonging to me, whom I left
+to tend my horse, which fell in the way hither. A good horse! Two
+hundred Turkish pounds would not requite me for his loss. Bring only a
+little fruit, some bread and some sherbet of roses. And forget not to
+prepare coffee and a narghileh for when I have done with eating.”
+
+At that all was bustle and running to and fro. One ran to the well for
+water. Another undertook to pound the coffee. A third set a little
+stool before the fisherman and a lantern to shed light on his repast.
+A fourth prepared the weed for his narghileh by first plunging it into
+a jar of water, then wringing it out strongly with both hands. And
+those who could not be of active use raised their voices officiously in
+counsel and direction.
+
+Only one held aloof. It was an aged man, one of those who sat smoking
+before the door. His bearing seemed superior to the rest. He alone
+remained seated, sucking lazily at his narghileh. Saïd divined a
+scornful smile on this man’s face as he looked on at the slavishness of
+his neighbours. Night, stealing out from under the olive-trees, had now
+completely hemmed in the house, so that, as they sat apart, Saïd could
+not see his countenance. But something told him the contempt was there,
+and it made him uneasy.
+
+All that he required was presently brought and set upon the stool
+before him. There followed a hush, as the bystanders, having no more
+work to do, sat down on their heels at a discreet distance and watched
+his meal. They conversed together in whispers.
+
+Saïd could hear the horse munching its chaff and barley under the
+trees hard by. There was now and then the stamp of a hoof, or a faint
+thud as it pushed against the wooden manger. He found it irksome to
+eat in state and apart. It came into his mind to call the host to him;
+but reflecting that true greatness brooks no fellow, he refrained.
+Instead, he pricked his ears to catch the gist of their whispering.
+“Officer”—“Soldiers”—“War” were among the words which reached him.
+They fired a train of new ideas. Straightening his back, he stroked his
+moustache and beard with soldierly fierceness.
+
+He was aware of a movement in the group. With the tail of his eye he
+saw the master of the khan draw near to that aged one who sat aloof and
+speak to him. Even in the darkness he knew that both their faces were
+turned in his direction.
+
+“O Faris! Bring the coffee for his Excellency!—and the narghileh
+also!” cried the host, whereat a man rose and ran quickly into the
+house. But the innkeeper himself did not budge. He remained whispering
+with the sheykh, and their eyes were fixed on Saïd.
+
+Presently, when the great man seemed fully and happily occupied with
+his smoking, the sheykh rose with a show of carelessness, picked up
+a pair of saddle-bags which lay by the wall, and went silently to
+where the horse was tethered. Saïd heard him thrust aside the portable
+manger, and knew, though he could not see, that he was busy strapping
+the girth. Then came the jingle of a bit.
+
+The fisherman rose with an evil smile. He felt himself the object of
+all eyes, and in face of that quaking audience which believed in him
+was bold as a lion to act his part. Without a second’s delay he rushed
+upon the sheykh, and, seizing him by his clothing, swung him round and
+gripped his throat.
+
+“I have thee, old fox,” he hissed, shaking his prisoner gently but with
+a deft suggestion of worse to come. “This horse is no longer thine.
+In the name of the Sultàn’s majesty—may Allah preserve his life for
+ever!—I take him from thee. Thou knowest the law. After a little, when
+the war is over, he will be thine again—if he die not in the meantime,
+which is very likely, for it is a sorry beast.”
+
+With that he left hold of the old man, sending him reeling against the
+trunk of a tree, and, gathering up his grand robe, climbed into the
+saddle. All the men of the inn were now gathered to the spot. Their
+eyes were fierce upon Saïd, but fear sealed their lips. The sheykh,
+recovered from his stupor, grasped the bridle tightly.
+
+“Yes, it is true, I know the law!” he screamed. “Thou mayst take my
+horse—good, since there is war. But first thou must write me a paper
+of acknowledgment. I am no common man, I warn thee, to be robbed and
+no questions asked. I have friends in power. Give me, I tell thee, a
+writing of acknowledgment that I may claim my own when the evil time is
+past!”
+
+Saïd hesitated, aghast. He had never dreamt of any more formality about
+the levying of a beast of burden for the army than had been observed in
+the taking of his own donkey. In any case, to give the paper was quite
+beyond his power, for he could scarcely write.
+
+“What is this, son of a dog?” he exclaimed at last. “A paper, sayest
+thou?—and the law? Am I one to take orders from a dog like thee? As
+soon as my men arrive with the other beasts thou shalt have thy paper,
+but not now. Dost hear—eh, old dotard? Now stand aside or I ride over
+thee! I go to meet my followers.”
+
+He urged the horse forward; but the old man still kept hold of the
+bridle, and the steed knew his master. His hesitation, and the
+misgiving which showed a little through his brave mask, had taken
+something from his prestige with the onlookers. They closed in upon
+him, clamouring for justice. It was a lonely place; in all the darkness
+there was no friend. He began to be afraid.
+
+“At least the saddle-bags are mine,” cried the sheykh, setting to work
+to free them.
+
+“Fruit and bread and coffee are worth money, O my uncle! even without
+syrup of roses and the narghileh,” said the master of the khan in tones
+of blandest remonstrance. As he spoke his face was very near to Saïd’s,
+and its expression was terribly at variance with the suavity of his
+utterance.
+
+All who stood by looked meaningly at one another. “By Allah, the right
+is with him!” they exclaimed, “All this is worth money. It is just that
+he be paid for it.”
+
+Saïd moved uneasily in his seat.
+
+“Take thy saddle-bags, old madman!” he cried. “What are they to me? As
+for thee, dog, thou mayst count thyself happy if I send thee not to
+prison. I saw thee whisper to the sheykh here, and knew that thou wast
+warning him to be gone quickly with his horse. Thou art no true subject
+of the Sultàn. If I spare thy life it is payment enough.”
+
+At that there was a great outcry from all the group. They beset him
+angrily with intent to drag him from the saddle. Saïd felt deadly sick.
+Only the thought that he was a high officer of the Sultàn’s army upheld
+him. Rough hands were already laid upon him, when he shouted “Praise be
+to Allah!” very fervently, with joy in his voice. They all drew back in
+surprise.
+
+“Make haste, Ahmed!—Mustafa!—Muhammed! I, your leader, am assailed
+by robbers. Hassan and Ali, ride fast! Let Negìb, whose horse is lame,
+take charge of the captured beasts! I, Saïd Agha, am in peril of my
+life!”
+
+Turning to the terrified innkeeper and his friends, he said shortly,—
+
+“Dogs, count yourselves dead! Hear ye not the sound of hoof-beats?” And
+digging the sharp corners of the iron stirrups deep into the flanks
+of the horse he galloped away into the night. The last he saw of his
+assailants, they were standing huddled together, like silly sheep,
+half-dead with fright.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+It was evening when Saïd at last came in sight of the great city. He
+reined in his horse on the brow of a steep hill, the last wave of the
+bare brown highlands through which his way had lain all day. Hard by
+was a little shrine, the crescent fiery above its dome. The sun was
+just setting among the dark peaks behind him, and the last gleam of
+day was warm upon the shrine and all the hill-top. Horse and man had
+a glory at their backs. But beneath, the city and its endless garden
+lay already in the lap of night. White domes and minarets, mosques and
+palaces, loomed wanly in the heart of a vast grove, which stretched,
+far as the eye could ascertain, to eastward towards a smooth horizon
+which was the desert. Gathering shades spread a thin veil over all the
+plain, like the bloom on a purple grape. An amethyst flush suffused
+the eastern sky—a spirit flush, soft, yet living, wherein starlight
+and daylight seemed mingled. Saïd’s heart leapt as he beheld the
+mistress of his dreams, set in her gardens, seeming the fairer and more
+desirable for the grim, treeless mountains which were her girdle.
+
+“It is paradise,” he murmured in ecstasy.
+
+At the foot of the hill, on the utmost fringe of the gardens, he could
+see a little village of flat-roofed houses. A string of camels was
+drawing near to it along the base of the steep. The tinkle of their
+bells rippled the twilight cheerily. Of a sudden the noise of chanting
+arose—a wild, delirious song of piercing shrillness. It came from the
+high platform of the only minaret of the village. Somewhat mellowed by
+the distance, it reached Saïd’s ears as heavenly music. The clangour
+of bells ceased of a sudden. The camels had halted. Their drivers,
+obedient to the muezzin’s call, were prostrate in prayer.
+
+Saïd got down from his horse and went through the form of ablution with
+some dry dust he collected. Taking off his grand garment, a good deal
+the worse for his five days’ wearing of it, he stretched it on the
+ground for a mat. He turned his face carefully to the south and knelt
+down as near to the shrine as he conveniently might. He raised his
+thumbs to his ears and spread his hands over his eyes in the likeness
+of an open book. He rose, stooped, knelt again, prostrated himself and
+pressed his forehead to the earth. Then he sat awhile upon his heels
+with eyes closed, and then glanced to left and right, to exorcise any
+evil spirits who were thereabout.
+
+At last he rose and resumed his cloak. The orange glow of sunset was
+fading fast, and the mountains he was leaving were black and grey upon
+it. He bestrode his horse once more and began to descend. It was night
+when he entered the city. The streets were almost deserted. The few men
+he met were wending homeward, some in a hurry, others with the leisure
+of importance. Light streamed from an arched doorway, making a yellow
+pool on the rough pavement. A red glow, sifted through the tracery of
+an upper lattice, made a delicate filigree upon the wall opposite. But
+for such chance alms the streets were pitchy dark. The strip of sky
+above, sprinkled thick with stars, was a brightness in comparison. At
+the clatter of a horse’s hoofs, dogs, seemingly without number, rose
+grudgingly and slunk snarling from the roadway. Every wayfarer had a
+lantern to light his steps, either in his own hand or in that of a
+servant who walked before.
+
+Anon he came to a region where all the streets had roofs which shut
+out the sky, save a starry shred here and there where there was a rift
+in the black covering. Here was more life. A few merchants were yet
+busy stowing away their wares for the night, black shapes in flowing
+robes and turbans moving hither and thither about their lanterns. At a
+place where four of these covered ways met, seeming like corridors in
+a giant’s house, a sentry was standing in the door of his little hut
+talking to two muleteers.
+
+The ride through the dim streets had humbled Saïd. He felt very
+lonely all at once. In all that wilderness of dwellings there was not
+one soul who knew him. He would have given much—even his horse, or
+his brown cloak with the red braiding—to have had Hasneh with him.
+Fearing he knew not what rebuff, he had been ashamed to accost any man
+hitherto. But now he reined in his horse before the sentry-box and,
+wishing the little group a happy evening, inquired after a khan. One
+of the muleteers knew a good one and offered to guide him thither. It
+was plain, by the fervour of their salutations, that they took him
+for a superior. He began to feel more at ease. It was not far to the
+hostelry. The muleteer talked glibly all the way, of travelling and of
+his own journeys in particular. His name it appeared was Selìm. He was
+but lately returned from Haleb the White, and before that he had been
+to Baghdad with a hundred camels. Whence had his honour come. From the
+South?—from the sea-coast. Ah, he had been there too, having journeyed
+with a caravan to Gaza, and back by El Khalìl and the holy city. It was
+a pleasant land, the lord of all for oranges; he had the taste of them
+yet in his mouth.
+
+Saïd lent a gracious ear to his guide’s prattle, which relieved him of
+that feeling of loneliness which was weighing him down. Arrived at the
+khan, he bestowed a small coin upon the fellow, who blessed him and
+went his way.
+
+A bare-legged lad belonging to the inn held his horse while he
+dismounted, and led it in through an archway. Saïd followed closely
+to be sure that the right measure of fodder was given and the beast
+properly cared for. He entered a huge vaulted chamber, its groined roof
+upheld by two rows of pillars. Couched upon the ground, big, ungainly
+camels were pompously chewing the cud, now and then rolling up a deep
+gurgling sound like a groan from some nether stomach. Horses were
+there, each fastened with a halter to a ring in the wall. One stallion,
+a new-comer, was screaming lustily and tugging at his rope. Patient
+asses with moving ears and swishing tails, and sullen mules whose eyes
+looked wicked in the lurid glow of the single lantern, were tethered
+here and there. There was a sound of stamping, of scrunching, and a
+pungent smell. A little donkey just within the gate lifted up his voice
+and brayed as Saïd entered.
+
+Having seen his steed well placed and provided for, Saïd followed
+the serving-lad to a door in the wall, whence light streamed upon a
+camel’s hump. The noise of voices and a smell of cooking also issued
+from it, soothing two senses with the promise of cheer within. He found
+himself in a long room with cushions ranged along the wall, lighted by
+a number of wicks floating in a large saucer full of oil. A numerous
+company were seated, some smoking and chatting on the divan, others, on
+isolated cushions, eating ravenously with their hands out of dishes set
+upon brass trays before them. They all rose in acknowledgment of his
+salutation and a place of honour was offered to him, which, however, he
+declined to accept, choosing rather a lowly seat about midway in the
+room. In an arched alcove or inner room a fire was glowing in a great
+brazier, whereon were many vessels steaming.
+
+Saïd desired a portion of a savoury mess of pigeons and rice, which the
+bare-legged lad informed him was almost ready. The meal, though proper
+enough to his fine robe braided with red and the decent horse he rode,
+was scarcely in keeping with the sum of ready money in the linen bag
+upon his chest. But he had no longer any need of a horse. He would sell
+his steed on the morrow, and the price he hoped to get for it would
+keep him in comfort for many months.
+
+When hunger was appeased, and a tiny cupful of the bitterest coffee had
+diffused a pleasant warmth within him, he began to take interest in the
+conversation around him. A big, sanguine fellow, who by his garb seemed
+a wealthy fellah—the sheykh of some village, perhaps, or a small
+landowner—was talking excitedly in a loud voice. His large brown eyes,
+of ox-like stupidity, were bright, but without a spark of cunning. His
+close-cut beard was reddish like his moustache.
+
+“My cause is a just one. Also I have set aside much money to secure
+judgment. My enemy cannot bring forward a single witness in his favour,
+whereas I have my brother here and my servant who were present at the
+transaction. It is certain that I shall win.”
+
+He took up the hem of his robe—a rich one though somewhat soiled—to
+wipe the amber mouthpiece of his narghileh.
+
+“Truly thou art an honest man and a trusting,” said a bilious-looking
+person, short and swarthy, with a sneering smile. “It is well seen thou
+comest from a far village. As for witnesses, I tell thee thy adversary
+may have ten for thy two. Thou art rash, young man, to quarrel with
+one so powerful as the tithe-farmer. Thou hast wealth, it may be, but
+be sure he is richer than thee. Also he has the ear of the rulers, who
+profit by his exactions. The Mehkemeh is not a house of justice as thou
+thinkest, but an open market where judgment goes to the heaviest purse.
+Thou comest from afar; but I am of the city and speak from knowledge.
+To-morrow, when thou goest to the court, thou wilt be beset at the
+gate by a crowd of rascals whose trade is to bear witness for money.
+Twenty piastres will buy thee a plausible fellow who will swear to
+aught that pleases thee. The Cadi will count the witnesses on either
+side, and will give judgment for the greater number—if he have not
+sold his verdict beforehand, which is most likely. Bakshìsh is lord of
+all. A wise man does not fall out with the rich. It is the same all the
+world over. They tell of countries where justice is for rich and poor
+alike; but that is all a lie!”
+
+He looked round on the faces to mark the effect of his words. Then he
+leaned back and began to roll a cigarette.
+
+The young man who had first spoken broke out in fierce invective at
+such a state of things. Yet he still believed that his own case would
+prove a big exception. He boasted wildly and a little foolishly of
+the revenge he would take if judgment were given against him. He even
+reviled those in authority, so that his listeners murmured, with
+fear in their eyes. It was ill to speak thus in a public place where
+none knew his company. The eyes of everyone sought a neighbour’s in
+concern. Saïd above all was singled out for suspicion. His brown
+cloak of outlandish make, and especially the red braid upon it, had
+a quasi-official look. It was a relief to all when a fat-faced man
+with roguish eyes, who sat in the lowest seat and seemed the poorest
+there, raised his voice in fantastical eulogy of riches. He stood up,
+and mimicking an advocate or other public speaker, talked nonsense
+glibly in a high poetic strain. It was rather brilliant nonsense, and
+it tickled his audience hugely. One and all rolled with laughter,
+holding their sides. By the time the wag sat down again he was dear as
+a brother to every man there. As an approved jester he might have taken
+the seat of honour without offence to the most arrogant.
+
+After that the talk became less general. Men yawned one after another.
+Those nearest to Saïd made overtures of friendship. They asked
+questions: whence he came, what his name was, whether he had a son,
+what might be his business in the city, and so forth—questions Saïd
+was often puzzled to answer. To escape from their inquisitiveness he
+declared himself with a yawn to be very weary, and asked to be shown
+to the place of sleep. One or two of the company had already set the
+example. He salaamed to the room in general as he went out.
+
+The same bare-legged youth who had served him on his arrival led him
+now through the dim stable, among the sleeping beasts, to a place
+where a flight of stone steps was built against the wall. Ascending,
+he came into a long room like to that he had just left. The lantern
+his guide carried showed the floor bare save for four mattresses, on
+which as many men lay stretched, and a heap of dirty bedding in one
+corner. There was a lattice affording a glimpse of the stars above the
+uneven blackness of flat-topped roofs. The night air came freely into
+the chamber—not the sweet breeze of the mountain or the seashore, but
+a breath of the sleeping city redolent of the day’s filth. The lad
+dragged a mattress and a covering from the heap and spread them close
+by the window. Then wishing the traveller a happy night, he departed.
+
+Saïd lay awake a great while. Men came in by ones and twos, spread
+out their beds and lay down, until the floor was strewn with sleeping
+forms and the sound of loud snoring in every key floated out melodious
+into the night. He could not be rid of a feeling that he was still on
+horseback, riding at a foot’s pace over hill and dale, breezy mountain
+and burning plain. A fear was at his heart—a fear that had been with
+him always of late, that he might fall in with a band of soldiers who
+would rob him of his horse even as he had robbed the rightful owner.
+He had indeed learned from a shepherd lad that there was no war but
+only a general movement of troops changing garrison. But as steeds were
+needed as much in the one case as in the other, the tidings in no way
+relieved his mind. By a cautious avoidance of towns and large villages,
+and choice of a by-path, even though it went a long way round, he had
+almost doubled the length of his journey, and had approached the city
+by the way of the hills, whereas the way of the plain was much shorter.
+
+When at length he fell asleep it was to dream that the whole city
+had become solid, of a single stone, and that he was immured in a
+little cavity in the midst of it. The stone was populous, swarming
+with human beings who gave no heed to his cries. There were endless
+tunnels thronged with wayfarers, all bearing lanterns—a nation which
+had never seen the sun. The weight of the whole stone was somehow upon
+him. He called to Allah for relief; but the thickness of that stone was
+inconceivable, and Allah very far away. However, the face of Muhammed
+the Prophet (peace be to him!)—a fat sly face like Abdullah’s—looked
+in upon him and sternly remarked, “It is Paradise.” Then arose a
+terrible cry for bakshìsh, and Saïd knew that the stone was no other
+than a court of law.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+Saïd awoke, as soon as it began to be light, to find the chamber
+already half empty of sleepers. His forehead was clouded as he went
+down the flight of stone steps into the stable, and threaded his way
+gingerly among the beasts and merchandise. His mind was busy laying
+plans for the day. There was much to be done. His horse must first
+be sold, and then he must look out for a lodging in keeping with his
+means. He must be on his guard every minute, for the dwellers in towns
+have ready wits and love to whet them on a stranger.
+
+The ghost of daylight, looking in at the arched doorway, cast a pallor
+on the stumpy columns, on the humps and heads of camels, on the glossy
+flanks of horses and mules. He made his way to where his own steed was
+standing listless, awaiting the morning’s dole of chaff and barley. A
+soft neigh and a pricking of the ears welcomed him. He smoothed the
+horse’s mane lovingly, patted its neck and rubbed its nose, whispering
+all manner of endearment. It was a good beast, and he was sad to part
+with it.
+
+In the guest-room he found the young man who had spoken so rashly
+overnight seated on the floor at a meal of bread, curds and olives.
+A handsome lad of sixteen or thereabouts, whom a strong likeness
+proclaimed his brother, sat with him, eating from the same tray. At a
+becoming distance their servant—a swarthy, fierce-eyed fellow, whose
+weather-beaten tarbûsh had lost its tassel—squatted on his bare heels
+awaiting their pleasure. Saïd greeted them politely before shouting
+for something to eat. While a servant who answered his cry was pouring
+water over his hands and helping to dry them on a dirty cloth, the
+voice of the young man rose in flowered eloquence.
+
+He was rehearsing the speech he meant to make before the Cadi. It must
+have been written for him by some learned scribe skilled in all the
+bewilderment of tangled words; for no plain man could lay hold of its
+meaning. It was all of one piece from first syllable to last, and as it
+was recited, or rather intoned, there was no telling where one thought
+ended and the other began. Saïd’s mouth fell agape with admiration. He
+listened spellbound, forgetful even of his breakfast. Once or twice
+the orator, finding himself at a loss, drew a scroll from the bosom of
+his robe and passed his finger along and down it till he came to the
+passage. Then he replaced the scroll and went on with renewed fervour.
+“Capital!” cried the servant, when a complacent grin of his master
+announced the end. “In all my life I have heard nothing like it. It
+speaks with the mouth of the Coràn, with the voice of an angel. It
+would melt the heart of the Chief of Mountains, by Allah! Rejoice, O my
+master, for our cause is won!”
+
+“Good—very good!” said the younger brother, his face eager with
+impatience. “Is it not the hour when we should repair to the Mehkemeh?”
+
+Saïd also lent his voice to swell the chorus of praise. Such a speech,
+he protested, would grace the lips of princes. It was polished as a
+tray of gold, exquisite as a mosaic of divers kinds of precious stones,
+sweet as the voices of girls singing to the sound of the one-stringed
+lute. The ear of Allah would not disdain it. This high praise, which
+was perfectly sincere of its kind, flattered the orator and his boyish
+brother. Even the surly henchman looked at Saïd with grudging approval.
+The chief of the party informed him graciously that he had procured the
+speech of a scribe renowned in all the city for his learning, and that
+it had cost him a pretty sum of money, which he named. If his enemy
+could produce a better he would be surprised, and so forth. “Moreover,”
+he added, with a smile of such doltish cunning that Saïd envied his
+opponent—“moreover, I have laid out much money already among the
+servants of authority, and I have here a great sum to be expended in
+the court itself. It is sure that I shall win.”
+
+“There is no doubt!” his companions chimed in, the one eagerly, the
+other with a kind of sullen defiance.
+
+“No doubt—not a shred of doubt,” echoed Saïd, his bearing very
+respectful of a sudden as he heard the jingle of coins in the sack
+which the young man opened his robe to show him.
+
+His fast fairly broken, he called for the reckoning. The lord of the
+khan appeared—a very fat man wearing a robe of indigo blue, under
+which dirty white pantaloons showed to his ankles, the reddest of red
+slippers, and a girdle of many colours which, instead of restraining
+his bulk at all, bulged out frankly upon the most obvious part of him.
+His turban was richly embroidered, but old and dingy. His demeanour was
+important but polite, as became a substantial host requiring payment of
+a guest of unknown quality. The amount was twelve piastres, he informed
+the effendi. After a little fruitless haggling, which only served to
+hurt the feelings of mine host and turn him to a boulder of dignity,
+Saïd discharged his debt and took leave of the hopeful litigant and his
+supporters.
+
+Passing out into the stable he found the bare-legged lad of last night
+zealously brushing his nag’s mane and flanks. At a word he left work
+and fetched the saddle and bridle from a heap of trappings in a nook of
+the wall.
+
+A group of camels were being laden from a heap of bales which stood
+piled round one of the pillars. The cursing of their drivers, three
+in number, was very lusty, as they made them kneel, then rise, and
+kneel again, to get them into position. The foremost of them, already
+accommodated with a load, stood across the doorway, blocking it. An
+oath from Saïd, ably seconded by the bare-legged stable-boy, called
+forth a perfect storm from the camel-drivers, one of whom ran forward
+and led the unwieldy beast to one side. The horse was taken out on
+to the causeway. Allah, who was being invoked within the archway to
+blast and utterly destroy the father, religion, and offspring of the
+half-dozen camels there lading, was humbly asked to increase Saïd’s
+wealth as that worthy rode off leaving a trifle in the brown palm of
+the hostler.
+
+The long, roofed bazaar, from which others just like it branched to
+right and left, was already busy with people going to their day’s work.
+A coolness of the empty night still hung in its shadow, but that shadow
+was no longer grey and thin, but blue and deep, telling of a young sun
+reddening the roofs above. It was early yet to think of selling his
+horse; so Saïd rode forward at his ease, bent on viewing the city,
+taking this turning or that as fancy prompted.
+
+Stalls were opening everywhere in the shady markets. Shutters were
+opened, bars removed, goods displayed. Merchants were settling
+themselves in dim nooks like caverns behind their wares. The ways were
+choked with a humming, gaily-coloured crowd. Cries of “Oäh! Oäh! Look
+out on your right—on your left!” came in shrill tones or hoarse,
+as men with asses or mules forced a way through the press. Sweet,
+languorous odours, wafted from the shop of a vendor of perfumes, a
+whiff of musk from the shroud of some passing woman, the fragrance
+of tobacco, a dewy breath of the gardens from a mule’s panniers
+crammed with vegetables—little puffs of sweetness were alternate in
+Saïd’s nostrils with the reek of dirty garments and ever-perspiring
+humanity, with vile stenches from dark entries, where all that is
+foulest of death and decay was flung to glut the scavenger dogs that
+slept, full-gorged, by dozens in every archway and along every wall.
+Saïd inhaled sweet and foul alike with a relish as part of the city’s
+enchantment.
+
+He looked about him as he rode with wondering delight, shouting always
+“Oäh! Oäh!” as a warning to the multitude whose din drowned the clatter
+of hoofs. The greatness and the glory of it surpassed his dreams. Here
+was a whole bazaar wide, long and lofty, possessed exclusively by
+the workers in precious metals; another by the sweetmeat sellers; a
+third by those who inlay wood with mother-of-pearl; a fourth by those
+who sell rugs—rich carpets of all the hues of the garden, of every
+make, from Bukhra and Khorassan, from Mecca and Baghdad and El Ajem.
+In one street he caught glimpses, through mean doorways, of precious
+stuffs, fine silks embossed and embroidered, the work of a lifetime. In
+the next there was nothing but the noise of grinding, chiselling and
+planing as the joiners squatted at their work, with the breath of the
+crowd in their faces.
+
+He passed out of the shade of the covered bazaars and came at length
+to a place where the sun shone blinding on the ornate gateway of a
+mosque. Doves wheeled overhead about a tall and graceful minaret, which
+tapered dazzling white upon the dazzling blue, pointing to the heart
+of the great sapphire dome, to the throne of Allah himself. Through
+the archway he could see a flock of them strutting and pecking on the
+mosaic pavement of a cloistered court. Their cooing brought the inner
+stillness to him in spite of the noisy crowd, like a voice in a bubble
+of silence.
+
+He rode on, rejoicing in the fierce sunlight and the peaceful shadows,
+in all the busy throng around him.
+
+It began to be very hot, and he had been long riding. The cry of a
+certain vendor of iced drinks, who was elbowing his way through the
+crowd, clasping a huge bottle of greenish-yellow fluid and clinking two
+cups together as cymbals, was like the voice of an angel calling him.
+
+“O snow of the mountain! How pure art thou, and how cold! O juice of
+the lemon! how refreshing when mingled cunningly with sugar as in my
+bottle! O drink of paradise, who could refuse thee? May Allah have pity
+on him who drinks not of this cup!”
+
+Saïd drank of it and smacked his lips afterwards. In truth it was
+refreshing. He paid the smallest of coins—it was all the ministering
+angel asked for his elixir—into the dirtiest of hands, and received
+the parting blessing.
+
+“May Allah have mercy on thy belly!”
+
+Then he bethought him that it was time he took some steps toward
+selling his horse. He had been quite happy till then, drifting with the
+tide of inclination, having no aim beyond sight-seeing. But the moment
+he came to harbour a definite purpose he felt crestfallen and ill at
+ease. The multitude, with which he had but now mingled lovingly as a
+brother, seemed to fall back from him of a sudden, becoming heartless
+and indifferent. He felt bewildered as his eyes strayed over numberless
+eager faces, seeking some person not too busy to answer a question.
+All at once, even as he drew rein irresolute, his hand was seized and
+kissed, and a man’s voice hailed him with cheerful deference.
+
+“May thy day be happy, O my master!”
+
+“May thy day be happy and blessed!” returned Saïd, graciously.
+
+It was Selìm, the muleteer who had been his guide to the khan. The
+encounter was timely. Saïd straightway questioned him as to the best
+place for a man to go who was wishful to sell a horse to the best
+advantage. Selìm had the whole day on his hands. On his head, he was at
+Saïd’s service. He would lead him to a place which had not its like in
+all the world for horse-selling; it was the lord of all such places, by
+Allah! He would not conduct the effendi to a low place, of which there
+were many—no, by his beard, but to the best of all. He had a great
+respect for the effendi, and, to be sure, the horse was a good horse,
+deserving to be sold in the best market.
+
+He took Saïd’s bridle and led him out of the throng and the sunlight
+into a maze of byways, narrow, dark and dirty. There were archways,
+short tunnels, sleeping dogs and evil smells. Saïd saw many women with
+their faces uncovered. Most of the men also in this region wore the fez
+alone, or, if a turban, it was informal, of black or grey. He feasted
+his eyes on the charms of the maids and matrons with lazy contempt.
+They were Christians, unbelievers and accursed. Yet men and women
+walked bravely in the middle of the causeway, and were in no haste to
+humble themselves before a true believer and one that rode upon a horse.
+
+Referring to his guide for enlightenment,—
+
+“This is the Nazarene quarter,” replied the muleteer. “Here, by the
+mercy of the Sultàn, the infidels are suffered to live apart under a
+chief of their own religion. It is their ancient privilege, and none
+grudged it them of old, when the dogs were meek and obedient to the
+law. In those days they were not abhorred by the faithful, who lived
+peacefully with them, claiming only the right of the conqueror. But
+now that they grow fat and insolent, because of the Frankish consuls
+who pamper them, they are become loathsome as Jews in our sight. The
+fault is with the consuls, who shield and abet them in whatever they
+do. The worst of them will tell you that they are French subjects
+or Muscovite, and will show papers to that effect given them by the
+consul. Your grace marvels—not so?—to hear a common man discourse of
+such high matters. Know, O effendi, that Selìm speaks not of his own
+knowledge”—he twitched the hem of his robe lightly to shake off any
+dust of responsibility that might cling to it. “He has kept silence
+in the tavern while wise men spoke, and the ears of Selìm carried
+something of the matter to his understanding. Moreover, it would be
+hard to find a man in all the city at present, be he notable or beggar,
+true believer, or Nazarene, or Jew, who is not possessed with politics
+as with a devil.”
+
+Saïd, whose ears had given heed, though his eyes were wandering,
+frowned terribly as his guide ceased speaking. “It were a righteous
+deed,” he said, “to slay every dog of them and burn their quarter with
+fire.” There was fierce light in his eyes.
+
+“Ah!” said the muleteer, “but the Franks are powerful and their
+vengeance would be dire. As thou knowest, the French and English gave
+aid to the Turks in the late Muscovite war, and in return they claim
+to govern the Sultàn’s realm instead of him. True believers are but as
+dogs in their sight, and they would set up a Nazarene in every high
+place. Allah! have mercy! Alas for the evil day that has dawned for the
+faith!”
+
+But the light in Saïd’s eyes was no other than the greed of gain. He
+was a strong man, not without courage. He would gladly slay a man,
+whether armed or defenceless, a woman, or even a child in the cause of
+Allah and the Prophet. But he could not forget that these Christians
+were rich. His mind’s eye saw a heap of gold in the darkness of every
+squalid entry. Also the women were fine and plump. His lips were
+yet dry from the sight of a pretty girl who had smiled up at him in
+passing. Truly, it would be a pleasant and a holy thing to harry these
+unbelievers with fire and sword.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+“Spoke I not truly, O my master, when I said it was a fine place? The
+greatest of the city come here each day to hear the news and see what
+horses are for sale. With thy leave, I will stay with thee. It is not
+seemly that a man of thy condition should be seen without a servant.”
+
+A lofty and ruinous gateway gave access to a sort of lawn, worn bare
+of grass in many places. All round, near to the walls of houses,
+trees threw great blots of shade over a crowd of richly-dressed
+persons—Turkish officers in high fezes and their best uniforms; grave
+merchants and notables, robed in finest silk, with close-cropped beards
+and deep embroidered turbans; one or two men in the official black
+frock coat and red tarbûsh; and a sprinkling of undoubted Europeans in
+light suits with queer-shaped hats upon their heads. All these were
+standing in groups or strolling up and down watching a wild-looking
+Bedawi and a groom of the town vie with each other in feats of
+horsemanship.
+
+Selìm drew close to the saddle-bow as they entered the enclosure.
+“Effendi!” he whispered, “it were well for thee to dismount here and
+let me go forward with the horse. It is easier for the servant to raise
+the price than for the master. Selìm cannot decide, it is understood,
+without first consulting thee. Be haughty, O my master, and show
+thyself hard to please! Selìm will take care to exalt thee in the ears
+of all who question him concerning the horse. So men shall know that
+thou art a great one, and shall be ashamed to offer a small sum.”
+
+The advice seeming good to Saïd, he alighted and gave the rope-bridle
+into the hand of his follower.
+
+“Allah be with thee!” he said. “The saddle and the bridle go into the
+bargain; I have no more need of them. And forget not to make much of
+the horse!”
+
+“Have no fear, O my master! Selìm is a subtle man, well skilled in this
+kind of business. By Allah, though, it is a pity he is not a mare. A
+stallion may be strong, swift, beautiful, of the best blood of the
+desert, but he is not productive like a mare. A good mare in foal would
+fetch a vast price here, effendi. Ah, my beloved, if thou hadst but
+been a mare!” He laid his cheeks to the horse’s pink nostrils lovingly.
+Then, with a rousing pat between the eyes, he led him away towards
+where the Bedawi and his rival were galloping madly to and fro in the
+blinding sun, pulling up short within a hand’s-breadth of the wall,
+so that the steeds were hurled back on their haunches, shouting and
+yelling all the while as though their lives depended on it.
+
+Saïd, for his part, bent his steps to the nearest tree, where was
+a group of loungers in the shade, walking slowly with care for his
+dignity. Never before had he mixed in such high company, and he felt
+awkward. But ere he had achieved many steps there was the sound of
+hoofs muffled by the rank grass, and Selìm stood again at his elbow.
+
+“Look, effendi!” he said, pointing with his finger. “Seest thou the
+old man yonder?—he of the snowy turban and the striped cloak, black
+and white. It is a Durzi, one of the nation of the Drûz—whether from
+the Hauran or from the Mountain, Allah knows. A strange race, O my
+master!—thou hast doubtless heard speak of them. I bethought me that,
+being a stranger from afar, thou mightest like to see a true Durzi;
+that is why I come back to thee. They are our brothers in that matter
+of the Nazarenes of which we were speaking, and they are strong in war.
+They love not the Mowarni, their neighbours on the Mountain, who call
+themselves subjects of the French, and are very arrogant. Men say that
+there are threatenings of war between them. Look well at him, effendi.
+Mark how proud he stands. By the Coràn he is the finest old man I ever
+saw. He is lord of all here by a head.”
+
+Saïd admitted to have heard much talk of that strange race, of whom
+the very Government stood in awe, and even to have spoken with some
+of them on his journey. He agreed with Selìm that he had never met so
+noble-looking an old man as this sheykh in the black and white cloak,
+who, though his long beard was almost as white as his turban, yet stood
+alert and upright as if still in the prime of youth. He held a fine
+stallion, black as charcoal, by the bridle; and some young men of the
+city, who were examining the horse’s parts, looked oafish beside him
+for all their fine apparel. As Saïd took his stand on the outskirts
+of the little crowd of grandees his eyes were still observant of that
+stately figure. The black charger was every whit as admirable as his
+master. The old Durzi must be mad, Saïd thought, or very short, indeed,
+of money to wish to sell a horse like that. He himself would not have
+parted with such an animal for all the wealth of Istanbûl. The small
+head, the watchful eye, the listening ears, the distended nostrils, the
+strong, arched neck, the tail falling like a cascade, not hanging limp
+between the buttocks; a dainty trick of pawing the ground and prancing
+from mere pride of life—the charm of these things took Saïd’s breath
+away.
+
+He was standing just within the shade of a great tree, about whose
+trunk the loungers clustered most thickly. Along the foot of a
+sun-baked wall beyond, roses, a little thicket of them, tangled like
+brambles over a brash of fallen stones and other refuse. The pink of
+blossoms among their dusty leaves was lustreless, veiled as in haze by
+the white glare from the wall. Their perfume reached Saïd faintly on
+that light breeze which springs up about the third hour of the day and
+breathes its fullest at noon.
+
+The Bedawi had ceased his mad gallop in the sun’s eye and was now
+busy scraping the foam from his horse’s flanks with a piece of wood.
+Selìm had taken his place as rival of the town-bred groom, and the
+pair were careering about like madmen. Saïd shouted to him not to tire
+the horse—a cry which drew the attention of those who stood near. He
+caught a whisper: “He is a soldier—not so?” and knew, with a beating
+heart, that the red braiding of his robe was being canvassed. Then
+he heard a Turkish officer say, “It is but a mockery of our uniform
+paletot. That is no soldier’s garment, by Allah!” He knew the speaker
+for an officer by the clatter of a sword which preceded and followed
+the words, and for a Turk by the way he pronounced Arabic. But he did
+not turn his head or let it be known he had overheard. When at length
+he risked a backward glance it was to find that most of the company
+had moved away, leaving only a young officer and two Franks. They were
+talking lightly together, and seemed perfectly heedless of him or his
+clothes.
+
+Presently, however, a laugh affronted his ears. It was a Frank’s laugh
+or an idiot’s, being very loud and quite devoid of understanding. Saïd
+felt uneasy but did not change his position, nor turn his head the
+fraction of an inch. Only he strained his ears to listen. Both the
+Franks were laughing now, and the sound of their mirth was like the
+braying of twin asses. They were trying to explain something to the
+Turk in a strange tongue. At last the officer seemed to understand, for
+he laughed too—not the meaningless laughter of the other two, but a
+subtle guffaw full of appreciation. Then he stepped forward and touched
+Saïd’s shoulder.
+
+“By thy leave, uncle”—the familiarity of this style of address was
+gall and wormwood to the fisherman—“I would ask thee a question. The
+Khawajât, my friends, marvel much at this garment of thine. It is the
+work of their country, they aver, and one which no Frank wears outside
+his own house; it being proper only to the harìm and the sleeping-room.
+They are curious to know for what reason, whether from ignorance or of
+any set purpose, thou wearest it before all men in a public place.”
+
+Then Saïd, with hot shame and confusion at his heart, lifted up his
+voice and laughed—a laugh even louder and more empty than that of the
+Franks.
+
+“It was a famous trick,” he cried. “Oh, that rascal! He is a very devil
+for cunning! Listen, O Khawajât, and thou also, O my lord the Bek! I
+am a man of consequence in my own city, but it is far from here. I set
+out to come hither in order to get the inheritance of my brother, who
+is dead. In the way I passed by the door of a Frank—a priest he was,
+dressed all in black. He called to me to enter and rest awhile, and,
+as it was the heat of the day, I got down off my horse and sat with
+him. While we awaited the coffee, he brought this garment to show me,
+swearing by all his prophets, whom he counts as gods, that it was a
+robe of price such as kings wear in his country. He wished to sell it,
+and as he had taken a fancy to me—ah, the devil!—he would let me have
+it for five hundred piastres. It was equal to giving it, he said, but
+he loved me like a brother and so would let me have it for that money.
+So I, desiring the robe greatly (for I believed his words, that it was
+a fine rarity), and having much money with me, paid the price at once,
+and put on the garment, which in truth is pleasant to wear. Ah, the
+joker! he befooled me perfectly.”
+
+The Turk laughed long and merrily. He was at pains to translate the
+story for the benefit of his Frankish friends. One of these, whose face
+had somewhat the colour of a pomegranate flower, insisted on grasping
+Saïd’s hand and shaking it, which is a manner of friendly greeting
+with the Franks. He laughed heartily with his mouth wide open, staring
+into Saïd’s face with stupid blue eyes. His companion, who kept his
+face—pink and white, like a painted woman’s—carefully shaded by a
+very broad-brimmed hat, held a little aloof, but laughed heartily too.
+The moustache of this latter was yellow like straw.
+
+Saïd submitted to the indignity of having his hand squeezed to a jelly
+and his arm all but wrenched from its socket with as good a grace as
+might be, consoling himself with the thought that the Franks are all
+possessed with devils. He was quite in the dark as to the meaning of it
+all till the officer spoke to enlighten him.
+
+“It is because thou art a merry fellow, O my uncle. My friend here
+loves thee because thou smilest in misfortune and art not angry that a
+trick has been played with thee.”
+
+At that Saïd grinned broadly and pressed the Frank’s hand with all
+his might, working it up and down until he cried laughingly, “Enough!
+enough!” that being one of the few words of Arabic which he knew.
+
+“Why art thou here, O my uncle?” asked the Turk. “Hast come to buy a
+horse? Yonder is a fine one, which the old Durzi is holding.”
+
+“No, my lord the Bek, I am come to sell a horse,” returned Saïd, with
+dignity. “My servant leads him yonder in the shade of the tree. It is
+a good horse, not so much for fantasy as for travelling. There is not
+his equal for a long journey. I myself have ridden him lately for five
+days; that is why he looks a little thin. It grieves me to have to sell
+him.”
+
+The Turk imparted the substance of what was said to his friends.
+There followed a short conversation between the three, of which Saïd
+understood nothing. Then the officer said,—
+
+“My friend the khawaja has need of a stout horse to carry him on a
+journey he is about to make into the desert. With thy leave he would
+like to examine this beast of thine.”
+
+It was a wonderful stroke of luck for Saïd, and he saw a special
+providence in it. He ceased not from praising Allah until the day
+was far spent and shadows covered all the streets. In a word, the
+scarlet-faced idiot bought the horse and paid for it, there in the open
+field, out of a purse that he carried, no less than fourteen English
+pounds. The bystanders sneered openly at the deed of folly. The Turk
+strove to reason with his friend, but the Frank was bent on paying the
+price first asked, which he seemed to think a low one, though Saïd, if
+beaten down to it, would have taken the half. The old Druze, who had
+just refused ten pounds Turk for the splendid animal he held, spoke
+loudly in envy of Saïd’s good fortune. Selìm went mad with delight. To
+crown all, the Frank, having paid the treasure into Saïd’s hand, must
+grasp that hand again, and shake it almost to the time-limit of the
+fisherman’s patience, for the bystanders were laughing in their beards.
+
+Then, with a light heart, Saïd bade Selìm lead the way to some
+coffee-house of good repute.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+From shortly after noon to the eleventh hour Saïd sat with his
+attendant in a tavern, debating what was next to be done, praising
+Allah, and dozing between whiles over a narghileh. The place was cool
+and dark, like a large cellar. What light there was stole upon the
+gloom through the low doorway from a shadowy alley without. It wakened
+a bluish sheen on the rim of a great copper vessel, and paled the faces
+of those who sat nearest to the entry. Behind, in the heart of the
+gloom, a fire of live charcoal burned redly. Warm steam, charged with
+earthy fragrance of coffee stewing, floated among the guests in search
+of an outlet. About twenty men were there, seated on little stools or
+lying on the ground. Some few were talking earnestly in low tones, but
+the greater part were dozing or fast asleep. The fisherman and his
+humble admirer sat in the darkest corner, away from the fire.
+
+“Let it be as thou askest!” quoth Saïd, at length, after a long silence
+of consideration. “I hire thee as my servant for one month. If thou art
+good and faithful in all things, thou shalt be to me as a dear friend,
+and I will take care of thy prosperity. It is agreed—not so? Sixty
+piastres shall be thy wage for the month of probation, and after that
+we will speak again of the matter. Thou eatest and drinkest at my cost.
+See! I pay thee at this minute, so full is the trust I place in thee.”
+
+Selìm bowed low over the hand which enriched him—a hand horny and
+grimed as his own—and kissed it fervently. “May thy wealth increase!”
+he said. “Now truly, I am very happy. A muleteer’s life is the life of
+a dog, and in the end he dies the death of a dog by the wayside; often
+there is no burial for him. Many a time has Selìm said in his mind,
+‘O mind, it were well to leave this dog’s business and cleave to some
+great one as his servant. Allah requite thee, O my master, for I am
+very happy!’”
+
+Saïd proposed that they should go out straightway and seek some decent
+room for a lodging, but Selìm dissuaded him.
+
+“It is best,” he said, “that your honour return presently to the khan.
+Thou art rich, and the khan is a good one, the resort of great ones.
+While thou art resting I will go to a place I know, where all manner
+of news is to be had. I will inquire warily what rooms are to let, and
+what price would be accepted by their owners. Then, in the morning,
+I will bring thee the fruit of my gleaning. It is ill to buy or hire
+anything in a hurry. Selìm is a knowing one. Trust him, O my master,
+and wait a little!”
+
+“I needs must buy a new robe,” muttered Saïd. “I have told thee how the
+Franks yonder, in the garden, did laugh at this garment of mine—a good
+garment and comfortable; it cost me six Turkish pounds. There are many
+Franks, thou sayest, in the city, and I have no mind to abide their
+mockery. Up, O Selìm! Let us go straightway to the shop of a tailor!”
+
+“Rise not, I beseech thee, O my master. It is not fitting that a man
+of thy consequences should go to a shop and on foot. Moreover, by thy
+leave, a vendor of garments ready-made is better than a tailor since
+thy need is pressing. Abide here a short while and I will bring one
+hither.”
+
+Saïd rendered warm praise to Allah who had given him a servant of such
+a ready wit.
+
+It seemed but a minute ere a shadow darkened the entry—the figure of
+a tall man clad in a loose robe from neck to ankles, carrying a large
+bundle. The voice of Selìm cried, “Behold the merchant, O my Lord!”
+
+The tall man saluted gravely as Saïd brought his stool to the doorway,
+where there was more light. Setting down his bundle upon the ground
+he proceeded at once to undo it. It contained a number of garments,
+which he held up one by one, shook out, stroked lovingly, and lauded to
+the skies. One of them claimed Saïd’s fancy from the first. It was a
+loose-falling robe similar to that worn by the merchant, tight sleeved,
+and buttoning close at the neck. It was of silk and cotton mixed,
+finely striped in blue and yellow. The merchant, observant of the
+customer’s face, swore by the Coràn that it would grace his Excellency
+rarely. It was just the thing for a tall, fine, strong, noble-looking
+man like his Excellency. Though he searched through the whole city
+he would find no robe so perfectly becoming to him as this one. All
+the idlers in the tavern, having nothing else to do, were drawn near
+to admire the rich stuffs and witness the bargain. With no idea of
+purchasing, and, therefore, no reason for depreciating what they saw,
+they joined their voices in chorus to that of the merchant, and praised
+the garment as a miracle of workmanship.
+
+“Let Selìm alone to do the chaffering, effendi!” whispered the sometime
+muleteer in his master’s ear. And again Saïd had cause to praise Allah
+for his servant’s wit. For Selìm drew the salesman apart and spoke
+fiercely with him for the space of a quarter of an hour, eyes flaming
+into eyes, like men on the point of shedding each other’s blood. At
+the end of that time they returned smiling, the best of friends, to
+inform Saïd that the garment was his for fifty piastres, though the
+merchant swore loudly by the beard of the Prophet it was worth twice
+that amount. He would not have let it go so cheap to any other than his
+Excellency, but to oblige his Excellency he would make any sacrifice.
+In return, he craved the favour of his Excellency’s further custom,
+in case at any time he should stand in need of fine raiment. The
+greatest of the city were his patrons: Mahmud Effendi, his Reverence
+the Mufti, his Highness Abdul Cader, the renowned Emìr of Eljizar, even
+the illustrious Ahmed Pasha, the Wâly himself! It was true. If his
+Excellency doubted it he had but to put the question to any man there
+present who would certify him that it was so. And all they that stood
+by, being indeed perfectly ignorant of the matter, testified, with
+hands on their breasts, and eyes upturned, to the merchant’s honour.
+
+Selìm received the garment neatly folded and nursed it lovingly, while
+his master gave an English pound into the merchant’s hand and counted
+the change for it. Then, when the merchant had taken wordy leave, they
+repaired together to the khan, it being then the cool of the evening,
+about the eleventh hour.
+
+In the vaulted chamber cumbered with beasts and merchandise Saïd stayed
+to divest himself of the brown robe braided with red which had so
+lately been his pride, and the kirtle of blue which was beneath it,
+retaining only his vest and pantaloons, which years ago had been white.
+He gave the discarded clothes to his servant for bakshìsh, to the
+muleteer’s unbounded glee. Selìm assumed the dressing-gown forthwith,
+stroked it feelingly and moaned with delight. The blue shift, which was
+an old one but serviceable, he stowed in the sack of his trousers. Then
+he flung himself on the ground and fell to kissing Saïd’s feet very
+fervently, with broken exclamations of thanks and blessing. Saïd chid
+him for it, commanding him to get up on pain of his displeasure; but at
+heart he was well pleased. The cup of his grandeur seemed full to the
+brim at that minute. For the first time in his life he had played the
+patron.
+
+As he was adjusting his new robe, Selìm helping him, a sound of mighty
+cursing rose upon his ears. It came from the door of the guest-chamber,
+where a lamp was burning already. Saïd stood a moment to listen, then
+entered, Selìm at his heels.
+
+The young man who had declaimed that famous speech so hopefully in the
+morning was now the centre of a concerned group, roaring, his face
+distorted, in a towering rage.
+
+“May Allah cut short his life! May the Cadi rot and all his race
+with him! May Allah destroy that wicked scribe from off the face of
+the earth!… Heard ye ever the like of it? I pay a great price for a
+writing to lead my tongue when the time should come for me to speak
+in the Mehkemeh. I give the half of my wealth to that foul pig of a
+scribe. And when I reach the court, behold the very same words almost
+in the mouth of my enemy. He has the first word; therefore my speech is
+valueless—a mere scroll to burn. I go to that scribe of Satan, and he
+smiles in his beard. Two men came to him in one day. How was he to know
+them for opponents in one suit? He laughs …. By Allah, he may think
+himself happy if I slay him not for refusing to give back the money.”
+
+At this point Saïd withdrew to the far end of the room that he might
+chuckle unobserved. He was fervid in his whispered admiration of that
+scribe; and Selìm agreed that it was a quaint and merry trick, though
+of opinion that the money should be returned.
+
+The young litigant, his frenzy spent, fell to moaning most pitifully
+and bewailing his wretched fate.
+
+“Add to all this,” he blubbered, “that the hearing is not yet over.
+Judgment is deferred till to-morrow; and I have wasted my money—all
+that I brought with me—save only a few piastres which I set aside for
+the expenses of food and lodging. I have nothing left to buy witnesses
+for to-morrow …. My cause is lost!… Merciful Allah! I am ruined.”
+
+“A zany!” whispered Saïd to his henchman. “But for such blockheads as
+this, I ask thee, how should wise men prosper?” He called loudly to the
+servant to bring something good to eat, and after that was silent for
+a space, his mouth being full for the most part. He made a favour of
+allowing Selìm to eat with him, though in truth he was most glad of the
+company. At last, having swallowed a dose of seething, bitter coffee,
+brought straight from the brazier by the bare-legged one, he gave
+utterance to his repletion and ordered a narghileh.
+
+Now Saïd, being full and his mind vacant of business, began to indulge
+a feeling not uncommon with the great and prosperous. His soul
+inclined to dalliance and the joys of female society. He wished that
+Hasneh was there; but not for long. The delights of the city must be
+many, and Hasneh had been his for seven years, so that there was no
+more sweetness left in her. Moreover, she had failed in her duty of
+child-bearing. He had long purposed to supplement her with another
+woman as soon as he should be rich enough. He looked at Selìm, who was
+still busy gobbling oily rice, with both hands cramming his mouth. Then
+he whispered a question, slily watchful of his servant’s face.
+
+“No, by Allah!” the other sputtered with indignation. “Your honour
+mistakes. Selìm is not that kind of man. I would do all things to serve
+thee, O my master; but lead thee to such a place, I cannot.”
+
+“Thou mistakest my meaning,” whispered Saïd, soothingly. “I never
+supposed thee other than an honest man—never!—if it were my last
+word: never! I did but seek thy counsel, being a stranger in the city.”
+
+Selìm was soon mollified.
+
+“That is a very different thing, O my master; but in truth I know
+nothing of such matters. There are houses in the Christian and Jewish
+quarters—Ah, the wicked unbelievers! It was a good word thou spakest
+about destroying them. There are houses, I say, where women sing and
+dance by night. There be Nazarenes in all the taverns who will guide
+thee to them for money. But I advise thee not to go; for evil men
+abound in those places. At the least, if thou art bent on it, leave the
+bulk of thy money here, with the lord of the khan, who will give thee a
+writing of acknowledgment and refund it to thee in the morning.”
+
+But all the servant could say failed to convince Saïd of the wisdom of
+placing his money in another man’s hands. To exchange gold and silver
+for a piece of paper seemed to him the last absurdity.
+
+“This is a foolish thing thou purposest, O my lord,” whispered Selìm,
+with a wail in his voice. “Ah, why didst thou omit to bring thy bride
+along with thee? Strange women bring ruin to the wisest. As for me, I
+have my house at a village of the mountains, a parcel of ground and two
+fruit-trees belonging to me. My woman has always remained there, while
+I gained money in travel as a muleteer. I go thither in two hours from
+here when I have a mind to visit her. She is a good girl and faithful;
+and she seems beautiful to one who sees her seldom and in the shadow of
+the morrow’s parting. Ah, effendi, how sweet is his woman with a babe
+at her breast to a man returning from a far journey! But this that thou
+wouldst do—forgive me, my master—is a shame for a true believer, and
+most bitter in the memory. Strange women are ravenous as wild beasts;
+they will devour all thy substance if thou persist in following after
+them. Leave but the half of thy wealth here, with the lord of the khan,
+or, if it please thee, with me who am thy servant!”
+
+But Saïd only eyed the speaker with suspicion, supposing that he had
+a mind to rob him. He rose shortly, and, having paid for the supper,
+wished the company a happy night. Whereupon Selìm borrowed a lantern
+from the bare-legged hostler, and hurried after him, past the sleeping
+beasts in the stable and out on to the deserted causeway, black as
+night’s shadow, where the flap of their slippers resounded as in an
+empty hall, and dogs shrank from the ruddy glow of the lantern to form
+in a barking phalanx at their heels. He was determined to light his
+master’s steps, whether Saïd would or no, to mark well what house he
+entered and what manner of man he was that kept the door.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+“Woe is me!… Allah have mercy!… I am ruined!… all my wealth is gone!…
+I have been robbed by wicked men; may Allah strike them dead for it ….
+Oh, that I knew the thief, that I might kill him!… Yesterday, in the
+evening, I was rich: now I have no resource but to stretch out my hand
+…. But I will have justice—vengeance! I go straight to the Cadi—to
+the chief of the soldiers—to the Sultàn himself!… Up, Selìm! Let us
+hasten to inform the judge.”
+
+“Woe is me!… My heart is very sad for thee, O my master. Alas! did I
+not counsel thee to leave were it but half of thy wealth behind with
+the lord of the khan?—but thou wouldst not! I have done all that it
+is in a man’s power to do. I have sought out the owner of that house
+of sin. I have threatened him with horrid tortures so that he wept.
+And now, having achieved nothing, I have come back to mourn with thee
+in the place which thou namedst, even in this garden by the riverside.
+The Cadi will not help thee, for thou canst bring nothing in thy hand.
+Moreover, a part of the profits of that house of sin is paid to a great
+one of the city for his protection …. Think not that I am careless for
+thy loss. For two hours I was with the master of that house, cursing
+and threatening. Once I held him by the throat ….”
+
+“Aha! That was well done! And what said the pig?”
+
+“Have I not told thee, O my master? He wept bitterly and his sons
+with him. Then he arose, and also his sons. They took great staves in
+their hands and ran like madmen through all the place, belabouring the
+dancing-girls and the old woman who mothers them, and the attendants,
+and him who keeps the door.”
+
+“Merciful Allah! was there not one who confessed?”
+
+“Alas, my master, thy mind is distraught with grief. Have I not already
+told thee? not one of them but confessed. The burden of another’s guilt
+seemed a light and easy thing to bear compared with the great pain of
+being beaten with a stick. They all cried aloud for mercy, saying, ‘I
+and none other am the thief!’ It is the same as if none had confessed.
+Ah, my master, how camest thou to be thus careless of thy money?”
+
+“Woe is me, I am ruined!”
+
+Saïd lifted up his voice and wept, beating his breast and plucking
+wildly at his new robe as if to tear it. Selìm, seated on his heels,
+wrapped in the missionary’s dressing-gown, looked on at his master’s
+despair with a grin of the deepest concern. He laboured to console the
+sufferer with divers proverbs and wise sayings from of old—crumbs from
+the plenteous table of Islâm, which the very dogs pick up and pass from
+mouth to mouth. But the Heaven-taught creed of resignation was hardly
+Saïd’s at that moment—“A man must bear all things, good and bad, with
+a calm mind.” “Allah was above all.” It might be He would mete out
+happiness at the last, as He did of old in the case of Neby Ayûb! “The
+reward of patience was sure in the end.” Saïd rejected all such crumbs
+of comfort with a furious shrug. He found them very stale.
+
+With a deaf ear to his servant’s pleading, he flung himself upon the
+ground, moaning, howling and blubbering. Writhing in his anguish, he
+called upon Allah Most High to avenge his cause, to slay the robber and
+destroy that house of sin with all who dwelt there.
+
+The voice of his rage and grief rent the calm of that peaceful garden
+as a cry from Hell piercing the heart of Paradise. Selìm, the resigned,
+rolled a cigarette and looked rueful as he squatted in the pleasant
+shade. All about them along the ground little thickets and tufts of
+rose-trees swayed pink flowers and fluttered green leaves to the
+pleasure of a light breeze which drank their sweetness. The river
+murmured in its stony bed, sparkling over pebbles in the sunlight of
+mid-stream, forming deep pools beneath the bank, very willing to dawdle
+in the shade of the great walnut-trees.
+
+The mourners were quite alone. The voice of the city floated to them
+out of the distance like the hum of a mighty bee-hive. A little tavern
+at no great distance from the bank was deserted save for its owner,
+and he lay asleep in the shade. It was the fourth hour of the day;
+and not until the flush of evening have men leisure to go forth and
+drink the sweet air of the gardens. A stone bridge of a single lofty
+arch, which bestrode the wady lower down, looked at fragments of its
+likeness in the eddies and seemed nodding to sleep. The vast blue cope
+of the firmament paled everywhere towards the horizon in pearly haze.
+Abundance of leafage compassed the place on every side, but at one
+point, through a gap in the branches, the old wall of the city was
+visible, the white cube of an upper chamber peeping over it with a
+bulging lattice, and a single minaret cleaving the soft distance.
+
+“Be comforted, O my master!” said Selìm, at length, when smoking had
+brought him to a less gloomy point of view. “Look! the very birds are
+frightened by the voice of thy grieving.” He pointed to certain which
+were flitting uneasily from twig to twig with alarmed chirrup and
+twittering. “It is a great loss, I grant thee. To a small man like me
+it would be ruin. But for thee, effendi, it is only a mishap—most
+grievous without doubt, and I suffer with thee. Thou hast lost what was
+in thy hands to spend; but the head of thy money remains—those lands
+and that palace of which thou spakest yesterday, and all the wealth
+belonging to thee in thy own place.”
+
+At these words Saïd writhed as if a serpent had bitten him. The extreme
+depth into which he was fallen rendered him careless of dishonour in
+the opinion of this muleteer. There was a ring of peevishness in his
+bitter cry as he made the avowal,—
+
+“It was a lie—the word that I spake to thee. I have nothing but that
+thou wottest of, which is lost. True, I was a great one formerly. Men
+pressed to kiss were it only the hem of my robe when I walked abroad.
+But there was an end to my greatness. My enemy, who hated me, was
+appointed Caimmacàm, and used his power as governor to my ruin. I was
+robbed and my robbers were openly screened from vengeance. One night
+certain of the Council that were my friends came privily to my house—a
+palace it was, by Allah!—and told me of a plot to slay me. Then I fled
+away by stealth, riding upon the horse thou sawest, taking only a woman
+that was dear to me and money sufficient for the journey. The woman
+fell ill by the way and I left her in the house of one who befriended
+me. Alas, it may be she is dead ere now!
+
+“Woe is me, I am ruined!… Yesterday I was prosperous, having a servant
+and money enough—now look!—I am a crushed worm and there is none to
+pity me …. Allah, in mercy take my life also!”
+
+And at that his moaning broke out afresh.
+
+“Now, by my beard, thou speakest folly,” said Selìm, gravely. “Thou
+sayest: ‘Yesterday I had a servant,’ when to-day thou lackest not a man
+to do thy bidding. It was not well to hide the truth from me, effendi.
+It is with a servant the same as with a partner or a woman. Acquaint
+him fully at the first, for living always with thee he will presently
+come at the knowledge though thou wouldst conceal it. Am I not bound
+to thee for one month by token of sixty piastres and this rich garment
+which thou gavest me? A robe like this is worth much gold, let the
+Franks laugh if they please. Selìm is not a dog of an infidel that he
+should forsake his benefactor, whom Allah has smitten.
+
+“Take heart, O my master! Besides the sixty piastres I have other
+moneys of my own—a little, it is understood—very little. With all
+that I have I will buy merchandise—small things such as men hawk
+through the streets in a basket. Deign to share with me, effendi, nor
+think it shame because I am a muleteer while thou art learned and of
+a good house. I will find out some shaded place where thou mayst sit
+at ease behind the basket containing our wares while Selìm praises the
+goods for sale in a loud voice, luring them that pass by to pause and
+examine them. Selìm will be thy servant then as now. Only, at the end
+of the day when there is no more traffic, we shall divide the profits
+equally as partners. Is it agreed, O my lord? I know well that it is a
+shame for thee to take part with a man like Selìm in the open street
+where all may see thee—it is natural. But that is only the beginning.
+Afterwards, when our wealth increases, we will hire a stall in one of
+the finest markets; when thou shalt be a great merchant, I promise
+thee, and Selìm, being thy servant, and also (secretly) thy partner,
+shall partake of thy prosperity. What sayest thou?”
+
+It was long ere Saïd would let himself be won over to this or any other
+compromise with misfortune. For hours he held out against his servant’s
+entreaties, moaning always and signing “No” with hands and head. But as
+the day wore towards evening and the shadows of the trees and shrubs
+grew long and blue to eastward, he became less hot in his denial; and
+at last, having consented to smoke a cigarette, rolled by Selìm and
+lighted obsequiously for him by that most faithful of followers, he
+relented altogether. “It shall be as thou desirest,” he agreed with a
+wave of his hand; and he entered with some keenness upon the discussion
+of their joint plans for the future.
+
+“And now, O my master,” said Selìm, smiling for joy at the cure he
+had wrought, “let us repair to the tavern yonder, for thou hast eaten
+nothing since the sun’s rising. I know the master of the place well;
+indeed, he and I are sworn brothers. He is renowned in all the city as
+a cook. Ah, by Allah, his stuffed vegetables have not their like in all
+the world! Arise, O my lord! I have money should there be need of it.”
+
+The sun being now near to his setting, a number of idlers from the city
+were seated on little stools in the tavern or in the shadow of a great
+walnut-tree which confronted it and partly overhung the stream.
+
+A train of mules passing the bridge close by made music with their
+bells. Quite another kind of music came from the wide porch of the
+coffee-house—if porch it can be called, which wanted but one wall
+to form a room as large again as the actual dwelling. A man, sitting
+cross-legged on a stone bench or couch beside the inner door, was
+howling most pitifully with closed eyes and a perpetual rhythmic
+swaying of his body to and fro; while another, facing him upon a
+four-legged stool, thrummed an accompaniment on an instrument of two
+strings. Some of the company kept clapping their hands in time with
+the melody. Others smiled voluptuously with closed eyes, sighing out
+a prolonged “A-a-ah!” or panting, “O my eyes! O my soul!” in the
+height of sensual enjoyment. It was a love song of the most rapturous
+type—one to which no son of an Arab could listen unmoved.
+
+To Saïd’s present mood it appealed very strongly; but instead of
+inducing languor, as in the case of the other hearers, it brought
+a warmth of his swarthy cheeks and a brightness to his eyes. The
+passionate writhing of the singer, his wails, his shrieks, awoke a
+lively echo in the fisherman’s bosom. Old memories were stirred and,
+like a heap of dead rose leaves, they gave forth a perfume of days gone
+by. He recalled the hour when he had led a bride to his house, the
+madness and the thrill of it. The world was full of maidens fairer and
+sweeter than she had been.
+
+Absorbed in the music, which seemed to his mind, and to the minds of
+most men there, to harp upon the keynote of all that is sweet in life,
+he gave no heed to the dialogue of Selìm and the tavern-keeper carried
+on in an undertone, though aware that its substance was friendly to
+the cravings of his appetite. The concluding words, however, spoken
+somewhat louder as the host moved away, reached his brain.
+
+“May thy prosperity increase, O father of a vegetable marrow! Let them
+be stuffed as thou alone knowest how to stuff them; and ah! as thou
+lovest me, forget not to soak the whole perfectly in oil!”
+
+At last the song expired on a shrill, quavering note of long duration.
+The singer opened his eyes and grinned in acknowledgment of applause.
+After one deep-drawn sigh of mixed contentment and regret from the
+whole audience the hum of conversation arose.
+
+Saïd looked westward to where the sun’s chin already leaned on the
+crest of a ridge of mountains, which seemed the dark wall of a
+monstrous furnace, for all beyond was flame. He could see the shrine
+whence he had obtained his first view of the city—a minute black boss
+against the sky. It was but before yesterday that he had reined in his
+horse up there.
+
+He was lost in reflections to which the thought gave rise, the
+commotion caused by the love song in his blood abating gradually to
+that torpor of resignation which is the frame of mind prescribed to all
+faithful people, when Selìm plucked his robe and whispered,—
+
+“Look, O my master! Hither comes the man who was befooled by the
+scribe—thou rememberest last night at the khan? See, there is the boy,
+his brother, with him, and one of sullen bearing, who seems a servant.”
+
+With a start, Saïd glanced in the direction indicated. At the same
+instant the sun sank totally behind the rugged hills, and the gardens
+turned blue-grey beneath a burning flush. The party Selìm referred to
+was close at hand, walking listlessly with dejected looks. Saïd rose
+respectful as the litigant drew near with his following. He bowed
+profoundly and went through the usual show of deference, scooping up
+imaginary dust with his hand and laying it lightly upon his lips and
+brow.
+
+“May your evening be in all goodness, effendum!” he cried. “Allah
+willing you are happy in your suit?”
+
+At that the new-comers raised hands and eyes to Heaven, all three at
+once, pouring forth a torrent of mingled salutations, curses and
+complaints. It was plain they were losers by the day’s business.
+
+Saïd waited till they were seated, then carried his stool near to them
+so as to make one of their circle. He expressed his sympathy warmly,
+inveighing in no measured terms, though in a low tone, against the
+injustice of things in general and the iniquity of courts of law in
+particular. He too had suffered grievous things since last he had the
+pleasure to behold their honours. Robbed in a single night of all he
+possessed, he could obtain no redress, no justice, not so much as a
+hearing of his complaint. By Allah, it was mistress of all wickedness,
+that city!
+
+The defeated plaintiff was warmed by this sympathy of a fellow-sufferer
+to be communicative. He recounted all his grievances from the very
+first, which was a dispute with the tithe-farmer for his extortion
+of three times his due of the crops of a certain village of which
+he (the speaker) was headman. It was a long story of insult heaped
+upon injustice, and aggravation upon injury; but Saïd did not mind
+its length, so busy was he concocting a tale to beat it of his own
+misfortunes. No sooner did he espy an opening—a very short pause in
+the other’s narrative sufficed him—than he thrust his fiction into
+it wedgewise, breaking short the tale of his rival and astounding his
+three listeners with a brief sketch or outline of such afflictions as
+never man bore since the days of Ayûb the Bedawi, whom Allah loved and
+chastened.
+
+“Of a surety thou art more wretched even than I,” said the other,
+gasping. “Indeed, in a measure I may be called fortunate, for I have
+found one just man in this city of thieves. He befriended me in the
+darkest hour of my trouble. But for his kindness I had been in prison
+at this minute instead of speaking freely with thee here in this
+pleasant garden. Know that there came one to the court to-day—an old
+man, a friend of the Cadi, who sat by him in the seat of honour, where
+the Mufti sometimes sits. But it was not his reverence the Mufti, whose
+face I know well.
+
+“When that wicked judgment was given a fine was laid upon me because
+forsooth I had annoyed that devil of a tithe-farmer with my suit and
+hindered him in the discharge of his duties. As I had not with me
+wherewith to pay, I offered to ride at once to my village and return
+after three days with the money. But at that my enemy—may his house
+be destroyed!—cried out that I was seeking to escape the penalty. And
+the judge, he too declared that if I would not pay the money I must go
+to prison until it was collected on my behalf. Then up rose that old
+man of whom I spoke but now—a good old man, and a kindly, may Allah
+requite him!—none like him in all the world! He begged a favour of
+the Cadi, though what it was I might not hear, for they conversed in
+whispers and I was far removed from them in the hall. Presently he came
+down to me and led me aside from the rest of the people. He said that
+he would not have me go to prison for so light a matter. He would pay
+the fine for me but I must promise to pay back the money before a year
+expired. Allah reward him!
+
+“So it happens that I am free. To-morrow, ere it be light, I shall
+set out for my home; and within four days from now that just and holy
+sheykh shall be assured that Habìb ebn Nasr is a good man and no
+perjurer—”
+
+“Deign to draw near, O my master. The supper is ready,” came the voice
+of Selìm.
+
+“With thy permission I leave thee,” whispered Saïd hurriedly, divided
+between the pangs of hunger and a desire to learn more of this wonder
+of liberality; “but quick! tell me what is his name! I too am poor—in
+the deepest distress. My need is even greater than was thine. Doubtless
+he will help me also, hearing my tale. Say, O sheykh, what is his
+name?—where his house? I will take no rest till I kiss his feet!”
+
+“His name is Ismaìl Abbâs—a Sherìf, of the kindred of the
+Prophet—that was all he told me. But he is a great one, I assure thee,
+one whose name and dignities would fill a book. He must be a learned
+doctor of the religion, for he bade me seek him always in the gate of
+the great mosque between the third hour and noon.”
+
+“I thank thee,” murmured Saïd, with a thoughtful brow. “May Allah keep
+thee in safety on thy journey!”
+
+He picked up his stool and rejoined his servant.
+
+“I have good news for thee, O Selìm,” he whispered. “Glad
+news—splendid! To-morrow, at the third hour, thou shalt guide me to
+the great mosque—”
+
+But just then a shrill murmur from the city floated out over the
+darkening gardens—the chanting from a hundred minarets, the voice of
+the common conscience bidding all men pray.
+
+Saïd fell on his knees. It grieved him that he had no cloak to spread
+out for a carpet as he saw others, Selìm among them, do around him.
+For a space there was silence in and about the tavern, broken only
+by the fervid muttering of the worshippers and an occasional clatter
+made with pots and pans by some soulless woman within the dwelling. A
+single lantern, hanging from a hook in the roof, was already burning
+though a spirit-blue of daylight still lingered among the trees. It
+shone on turbaned heads all turned one way, hands blinding eyes for the
+furtherance of inward searching, lips moving silently; on old and young
+alike prostrate, with foreheads pressed to the ground; and dimly, in
+the darkest corner of the hostelry, on the faces of three unbelievers
+sitting together by the wall, not daring to speak or move. A word at
+such a time might well have cost a beating.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+Selìm had much to say concerning the beneficent and learned doctor
+whose name and the hopes he had of him Saïd imparted during supper.
+But where was the subject within the scope of hearsay on which Selìm
+had little to relate? It is the custom of muleteers and camel-drivers
+to gather in the khan, or wherever they pass the night, and tire each
+other to sleep with talk of their experiences, their masters and their
+native cities. An intelligent man, and one content to listen, may
+pick up much useful knowledge of the world and its citizens from such
+converse. And Selìm had sharp ears and a retentive memory.
+
+The name of Ismaìl Abbâs was become a byword for learning and
+uprightness, and there were many good stories concerning him, all with
+a certain quaint salt of proverbial wisdom. But though the servant was
+glad to air a store of anecdotes he said everything to dissuade his
+master from an appeal for alms.
+
+He was at no pains to hide the motive of this reluctance, but put it
+forward humbly as a plea, cringing and with anxious eyes. It was a fear
+lest Saïd, having once more money in his hand, should abandon their
+little scheme of partnership for some loftier path to fortune. But the
+fisherman was firm, and Selìm was at last obliged to yield and consent
+to be his guide on the morrow.
+
+This experience of his master’s obstinacy left the muleteer moody for
+some time. He grumbled to himself, shrugging his shoulders and frowning
+at his feet. Then, seeming to come on a solution, his face brightened.
+
+“He will not give thee much money, O my master. It would be profitable
+for thee to lay it out in the manner I proposed. Thus we should be able
+to buy a better stock of goods than with my money only. What sayest
+thou?”
+
+“Of course,” murmured Saïd, carelessly. “Thou art a good man and a
+faithful. Be sure I shalt not forsake thee.”
+
+“Good—very good,” said Selìm, gleefully. “With thy leave, effendi, I
+go to speak with my friend.”
+
+With that he rose, and threading his way among the stools went to
+the door of the inner room, which framed just then a picture of the
+tavern-keeper stooping over a charcoal fire and his dilated shadow on
+the wall beyond. He returned almost immediately and directed Saïd’s
+attention to the host, who had come forth with a great mattress of
+many colours in his arms, and was spreading it out in a shadowy corner
+remote from the guests. Selìm hoped that his honour would not disdain
+to spend a night in that lowly place. The bed was soft and clean, his
+friend the taverner could vouch for it. The customers would soon be all
+gone, when his Excellency could sleep undisturbed till morning.
+
+Saïd was beginning to feel drowsy. He rose with a yawn, bidding Allah
+bless the house and its master, and, with a reverence in passing to the
+litigant and his supporters, betook himself straightway to rest. For a
+minute he lay blinking at the crazy lantern, which burned ever dimmer
+and more blurred upon his sight. Then he knew no more until, shaken
+by Selìm, he sat up to behold the gardens fresh and glistening to the
+sun’s first rays, and the tavern-keeper, a fat man with a good-tempered
+face and a soiled turban, in the act of setting down a tray of eatables
+upon the ground beside him.
+
+Some two hours later master and man re-entered the city in the
+comfort attending a hearty meal with a narghileh smoked afterwards
+for digestion’s sake. As they shouldered their way through the motley
+crowd in the streets Selìm was fervent in praise of their entertainer.
+There was no one like Rashìd in all the world. His honour had seen well
+what a good man he was, and how generous. How overjoyed, too, he had
+been to see Selìm, his sworn brother since five years. Rashìd also was
+formerly a muleteer. They had journeyed in the same company to Mosul
+and Baghdad, and had loved one another from the first meeting. They had
+friends and enemies in common. Never had a harsh or angry word passed
+between them. The topic was far from exhausted when they emerged from
+a narrow alley and found themselves at the splendid gateway of the
+great mosque. Selìm, however, broke off short in his eulogy to call
+Saïd’s notice to the dazzling white minaret he had beheld in his first
+morning’s ramble through the city. Now, as then, doves innumerable were
+wheeling and cooing around it.
+
+“Dost thou know its name, O my master, and the story concerning it?” He
+put the question more for form’s sake than as requiring an answer, and
+went on at once: “This minaret, effendi, is called by the name of Isa
+ebn Miriam, that great prophet whom the Christians in their blindness
+worship instead of Allah. Wouldst like to learn why it is so called? It
+is Selìm who can certify thee. I heard the whole truth, effendi, from a
+learned dervìsh, in whose company I once journeyed from Urfa as far as
+Haleb the White.”
+
+Selìm drew his master into the bay of the great gate to avoid a long
+string of camels, laden with stone, which were approaching with a
+deafening clangour of bells. There he stood still in the shadow,
+withdrawn but an arm’s length from the throng and the sunlight, one
+hand on Saïd’s arm to beg attention, the other pointing to the minaret
+of Jesus the Prophet, whom the faithful call Ruh’Allah: the Spirit of
+God. The eyes of the passers-by dwelt with curiosity upon the pair, but
+especially upon Selìm, the importance of whose pose combined with the
+eccentric fashion of his raiment to make him a notable figure.
+
+“Know, O my master, it is foretold that, in the latter days, when the
+end of all things draws nigh, Dejìl shall appear in a cloud of black
+smoke, black as pitch, covering the whole world. He is the Messiah whom
+the Jews expect, and great multitudes of that race will follow him.
+Then the Beast of the Earth shall appear, bearing in one hand the rod
+of Mûsa, in the other, the seal of Suleyman. With the rod he will trace
+a word upon the brow of every true believer; and the foreheads of the
+infidels he will stamp with the seal. The sun will rise in the west;
+and the Yehejuj-Mehejuj, that nation of dwarfs, sprung from the loins
+of Yafe zebn Nûh, will be seen plainly of all men. Arabistan will be
+shaken with an earthquake.
+
+“Dejìl, that false prophet, will have power for a space to deceive
+even the faithful. But a fire will break out in Yemen—a mighty
+conflagration, driving all flesh before it to the place of Judgment.
+Isa ebn Miriam will come to this very ….”
+
+Saïd’s impatience at being detained in the gate when a man renowned for
+almsgiving awaited him within here got the better of his politeness. He
+broke away with an oath and shuffled off his shoes by the threshold,
+Selìm, with a sigh, held his peace and did likewise.
+
+On the right hand as they entered, in a shaded place like a cloister,
+a group of little boys was sitting cross-legged on a carpet, forming a
+half-circle before a venerable man, richly clad, who was instructing
+them in a droning voice. Each had an inkhorn at his girdle and a reed
+pen in his hand, with which to write upon the page of a book which
+rested in his lap. Saïd smiled as he looked at them; for he loved
+children, and it was a whimsical thing for him to see half a dozen
+boys of the most turbulent age sitting grave and demure, like little
+scribes, at the sage’s feet. He followed Selìm to the place of washing,
+whence, having fulfilled their ablutions, they went into the mosque
+itself to pray awhile. Upon issuing forth again into the sunlight of
+the outer court, Selìm raised a hand to screen his eyes, and sent a
+keen glance round the cloister-like outbuildings in search of a green
+turban. Suddenly he pulled Saïd’s sleeve, whispering,—
+
+“Thou seest three men of grave seeming seated in the yonder corner
+where the shadow is the darkest? He on the right is the Sherìf Ismaìl
+Abbâs whom thou seekest. Next to him, if I judge rightly at this
+distance, sits his worship, the Mufti. The third I know not, but he
+seems a great one. Be advised, effendi: do not disturb them at present.
+They speak doubtless of weighty matters, and the tale of thy wrongs
+will but anger them, being busy.”
+
+But Saïd did not hear this advice. Even before it was uttered he was
+speeding across the mosaic pavement. By the time Selìm grew fully aware
+that he was standing alone he beheld his master prostrate in the shadow
+at the feet of the three reverend ones who sat there.
+
+Saïd’s outcry of praise and compliment as he lay on his face was
+cut short by a voice that bade him rise. The tones were mild but
+commanding; not to be gainsaid. He raised himself to a kneeling posture
+and sat back on his heels, the tide of flattery still flowing from his
+lips with a sound akin to a dog’s whine. The Mufti—a fat man very
+richly dressed—was frowning consequently at the intruder. His unknown
+neighbour was languid in surprise. Only the Sherìf appeared quite
+unmoved. With eyes fixed on Saïd’s face and hand laid thoughtfully to
+his trim grey beard, he spoke a second time.
+
+“To which of us three wouldst thou speak?” he asked; and with a gesture
+of the deepest self-abasement Saïd answered, “To thy grace, O Emìr.”
+
+“Thou hast my leave; speak on! Only take care that thy tale be not
+long, for I am busy.”
+
+Saïd needed no further encouragement. Wringing his hands he burst
+forth: “Alas for me, I am ruined! Know, O Emìr and your Excellencies,
+that I was once a great one—none greater than me in all the city, by
+my father’s grave!” Thus he began; and he went on to relate something
+of what had in truth befallen him and much of what had not, the whole
+freely sprinkled with “Woe is me!” and “Alas!” and strengthened by
+solemn asseverations of truth.
+
+“But why, O man,” broke in the Mufti, severely, at an early stage
+of the narrative, “why, I ask thee, dost thou now lay the blame of
+the theft upon thy friend, when at first thou doubtst not but that
+a jinni had robbed thee? It is well known that the jân are numerous
+and often malignant. Ever since their revolt against Allah, after the
+fall of Man, it has been their delight to molest the sons of Adam. The
+mission of Muhammed, the Apostle of Allah (peace be to him!) was, it is
+written, not to men only, but also to the jân. Nevertheless, there be
+many unbelievers among them, as among men, and it is likely that one of
+them had a grudge against thee. I like not to hear of such doubt. It
+has an evil savour of infidelity.”
+
+“Pardon me, brother,” put in the Sherìf, mildly, “if I share the doubt
+of this young man—in the present instance, be it understood. Who can
+doubt that the jân exist, when we have the highest assurance of their
+existence? For all that, a treacherous friend, is alas! no marvel.
+Proceed with thy tale!”
+
+Saïd went on to paint a picture of his more recent misfortunes, with
+much glozing and many omissions, being desirous that the whole should
+rebound to his credit. Having heard him out, Ismaìl Abbâs turned to his
+friends.
+
+“What think you of this story?” he asked with a slight smile.
+
+“Lies!” said the Mufti, with a majestic wave of his fat hand, thereby
+exhibiting the many rings of price with which its fingers were
+laden—“all lies! This fellow must be some unbeliever—a Christian in
+disguise.”
+
+“Nay, now, my friend, thou speakest injustice,” said the third great
+one, speaking for the first time. “Have I not fought for Islâm, and
+that with honour? Have I not been a prisoner in the hands of the
+infidels? It is well known that I, of all men, have least cause to love
+the Christians. Yet I tell thee that even among my personal enemies I
+have known good men and just.”
+
+“I assure your Highness I did but speak of the Christians of my own
+race,” said the Mufti, with reverence. “Some of the Franks, I grant
+thee, have good qualities.” Then, turning sternly to Saïd: “But to what
+purpose this tale of thine, fellow?”
+
+In a paroxysm of humility Saïd replied that he was destitute,
+friendless, having no resource but to beg. He addressed himself always
+to the Sherìf, who smiled as he listened—reflectively, as at some
+inward suggestion. He had heard, as who had not, the fame of his
+Excellency which was noised abroad through the whole city; how that he
+was a pious man—none like him—and a kindly. So, being in grievous
+trouble, he had made all haste to kiss the ground between his Grace’s
+feet, to crave were it but a small sum to save him from dying of
+hunger. He suited the action to the words, falling again prostrate upon
+the pavement.
+
+“Die of hunger, saidst thou?—Pshaw!” ejaculated the Mufti, stroking
+his belly, which seemed very full. “What man ever did die of hunger in
+Damashc-esh-Shâm since Ibrahìm El Khalìl was king over it? Such things
+occur, they say, in the cities of the Franks, where a poor man is used
+worse than a dog. But show me the true believer who would refuse thee
+bread to eat and water to drink! Thou speakest folly, young man.”
+
+Saïd seemed not to hear the remarks of the worthy judge, but lay still
+prone at the feet of the Sherìf.
+
+“Rise!” said Ismaìl Abbâs, presently, in that gentle voice of his which
+allowed of no evasion. “Who am I that thou shouldst fall down before
+me? And who, pray, is this person in the extraordinary garment?”
+
+Saïd, upon his heels once more, glanced over his shoulder and beheld
+Selìm standing shyly at a little distance behind him.
+
+“This is my servant, may it please your honour!”
+
+“Ma sh’Allah!” cried the Mufti, fairly startled out of the calm
+appropriate to him as a fat man and a prosperous. “Is there then found
+a creature to call the dog master? Has the flea then an attendant? Come
+hither, thou fellow, and answer: Art thou in truth this man’s servant?”
+
+Selìm came forward, shamefaced, with the lowest of salaams.
+
+“It is true, O my lord. He is my master and the father of kindness. It
+is he who gave me this grand robe which I now wear. That was in the
+day of his prosperity; and now that he is poor it were a sin for me to
+forsake him!”
+
+“A miracle!” gasped the Mufti, and held his peace, fearing, perhaps,
+apoplexy.
+
+“Since when hast thou been his servant?” asked Ismaìl Abbâs with a
+smile more kindly than that he had bestowed on Saïd’s wondrous tale.
+
+“Since before yesterday,” was the answer.
+
+At that the Mufti’s fat quivered and shook with laughter, and even his
+dignified neighbour was moved to smile.
+
+“Tell me the tale of thy meeting with him, my son,” said the Sherìf,
+stroking his beard.
+
+Selìm complied with seemly brevity; not forgetting, however, to
+celebrate the bounty of his sworn brother, the tavern-keeper, and his
+famous plan of partnership in a petty trade. When he had heard all,
+Ismaìl Abbâs turned a stern face to the suppliant, who blenched at his
+look.
+
+“Thou art destitute, thou saidst; yet this good man has agreed to share
+with thee as a partner. Thou spakest of death by hunger when thy belly
+is full as my own. I tell thee that this man, who has humbled himself
+as a servant before thee, is thy lord in all goodness. Thou spakest
+many words concerning thy former wealth and position, whereas thou
+speakest with the tongue of the lowest of the people.
+
+“Now listen! Thou wast a fisherman before thou camest hither; I have
+learnt it from thy mouth. Didst thou not liken thyself to a fish that
+flaps in the trough of the net when it is lifted out of the sea? A
+tailor would have found his likeness in a garment; a gardener in a
+piece of fruit. Thou art clever, doubtless: let thy wit suffice thee. I
+shall give thee nothing.”
+
+“A wise judgment, brother!” grunted the Mufti, with an approving nod.
+“I myself, who am a judge, could hardly have shown more acuteness.
+Of a truth, our lot falls in a degenerate age,” he continued, with
+an oratorical flourish of his podgy hand. “In the time of the early
+Khalifs, the immediate successors of the Prophet, a Muslim had
+something else to do than to lie and steal and betray his neighbour.
+Then the minds of all the faithful were set to convert the unbelievers
+with fire and sword. Where is the Imâm, Omar el Hattab (peace to him!)?
+And Khalid, the Sword of Allah, where is he? Is their memory clean
+gone from the earth? Truly the end draws nigh. Dejìl is present with
+us in the person of the Frankish envoys. The Sultàn himself is led
+astray. The Nazarenes sit with us in the place of honour. They pass the
+faithful in the streets with never a salutation. Is the soul then gone
+from Islâm that these things are allowed in our midst?”
+
+“Ah, brother, thou hast well said,” sighed the Sherìf. “There is indeed
+now but the shadow of ancient majesty. Yet, for my part, I do rather
+regret a later time, when Khalifs of the line of Abbâs ruled in the
+City of Peace, when learning flourished like a young tree, and the
+desire of knowledge was with every man as the breath of life.”
+
+“I hate the unbelievers as bitterly as any man,” muttered Saïd,
+supposing his orthodoxy was somehow called in question.
+
+“Ha! That is well said!” exclaimed the Mufti—“very well! The hour is
+perhaps not distant when—”
+
+“Hush, my friend!” interrupted his stately neighbour in a low tone
+of rebuke. “Thy speech is not of wisdom. The idle words of one in
+authority are like sparks blown on a wind. They may die harmless on the
+ground; but they have power to set a whole town in a blaze. It behoves
+thee, therefore, to be careful. Because a Frankish consul caused a
+decree of thine to be revoked yesterday, thou art bitter against all
+Nazarenes—it is natural. But let thy wrath consume in silence—Why
+lingerest thou, fellow? Didst thou not hear the words of my friend,
+that he would give thee nothing, because thou art a rogue? Go in peace!”
+
+Saïd rose, and with a cringing salute slunk sullenly away. Selìm, whose
+face was rueful, was about to follow him, when Ismaìl Abbâs spoke to
+him.
+
+“If ever thou have need of a friend,” he said, “come to me. And, I
+counsel thee, seek another partner! Now go, and my peace with thee, for
+I am busy.”
+
+Selìm kissed the hand that was held out to him with those gracious
+words, as also the bursting hand of the Mufti and the thin, nervous
+fingers of the third great one. Then he went to rejoin Saïd, whom he
+found in the act of slipping on his shoes at the doorsill of the gate.
+
+Saïd’s glance at him was lowering. He thought that the muleteer’s
+purpose in coming after him could only be to taunt and revile. The
+uproar of the crowded streets sounded in his ears as the voice of his
+woman sounds to one awakening from an evil dream. The court of the
+mosque was a burden of stillness at his back—a calm full of reproach,
+where the very cooing of the doves and murmur of the scholars told of
+his shame. Selìm was part of the scene from which he would flee. With a
+vindictive frown he bade him depart from him. But the faithful fellow
+drew all the closer, grinning friendly and saying,—
+
+“Thou art clever, O Saïd—a perfect devil. That was a capital fraud
+thou didst put upon me. I, who am accounted no fool, was utterly
+deceived. With a man of brains like thee for partner Selìm will surely
+rise to great honour. The money thou gavest me shall buy thy share
+of the business. Since I may no longer call thee master I name thee
+friend—brother. And indeed I have cause to love thee, other than thy
+cleverness; for the rich cloak thou gavest me has this day won me
+favour in the sight of the great Ismaìl Abbâs. When I was clad as other
+men are, no great one ever honoured me with his notice. Didst mark how
+they marvelled that one so well-dressed should be a servant? It was all
+because of this fine garment, and Selìm is grateful to thee. Now come!
+I will lead thee to a place where such merchandise as we require is
+sold cheap.”
+
+Saïd stood a moment in doubt, as one bewildered. Then, finding Selìm
+in earnest, and seeing no spark of mockery in his eyes, he fell
+a-blubbering all at once and swooped upon his friend’s hand, kissing it
+repeatedly, and calling upon Allah to bless him for a good man—none
+like him in all the world.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+For more than a month the partnership of Saïd with Selìm proved to the
+profit and contentment of both. But at length Saïd began to tire of
+it. His mind kept reverting to his roving life as to a period of great
+happiness.
+
+To sit in the shade of an archway, where two noisy streams of wayfarers
+elbowed and jostled one another all day long, and cry aloud in
+praise of paltry wares, seemed a tame, not to say shameful, means of
+livelihood to one who had sipped of the cup of greatness. The wretched
+room, too, which he shared with Selìm vexed him with its meanness. It
+was buried away in the heart of the poorest and most crowded quarter.
+The approach was through a series of stinking tunnels, where one
+stirred a sleeping dog with every step, up a worn stairway always
+slippery with offal. Even at noon the daylight never reached it. The
+squalor and the evil smells were of no account to Saïd; but to abide in
+a quarter whose very name was a byword for wretchedness—that it was
+which disgusted him.
+
+The delight of his partner each night, as by the light of a floating
+wick he told the trifling gains of the day, was another ground for
+discontent. What were a few paras to one who had held fourteen English
+pounds in the hollow of his hand? Of course it was true, as Selìm said
+with that cheery smile in which his white teeth themselves seemed light
+of heart, that a little, and a little, and again a little, becomes a
+great deal. But the slowness and labour of accumulation were irksome
+to Saïd. At their present rate of profit it would be three years at
+least before they could think of hiring that shop in the grand bazaar
+of which Selìm dreamt every night. Meanwhile, he hankered after the
+reckless life he had left for this; and each day added zest to his
+longing.
+
+His mind was in this unsettled state as he walked with Selìm one
+evening homeward from their place of business. The basket carried
+between them was almost full, for there had been few purchasers. It was
+the worst day they had yet experienced, so that Saïd’s gloomy silence
+aroused no wonder in his partner. The ways were still thronged, though
+the time of dealing was past, and forms loomed grey and shadowy in the
+waning light. Dogs prowled watchful on the skirts of the crowd, aware
+that man’s intrusion was almost over, looking forward with dripping
+jaws to an undisturbed feast of refuse.
+
+An aged man sat in the entry of a little mosque, holding out his
+hand and moaning persistently. The crowd, which now consisted of men
+hurrying homeward impatient of all hindrance, thrust the partners and
+their cumbrous burden very near to him. Of a sudden he lifted up his
+voice with alarming strength. The piercing whine had notes of triumph
+and of raillery.
+
+“Allah will give to thee, O Emìr!… Help me for the love of Allah, or I
+die!… May Allah preserve thy Grace’s life for ever!… See, I have a hand
+which is withered!… O Lord!… I know thee, O Emìr, how great thou art!
+(Wait a little!) … Have not mine eyes beheld thy Majesty of old? (Among
+the olive-trees hast thou forgotten?) … Have mercy, or I die! (Depart
+from here a little way, watch where I go and follow me!) … O Lord!…
+There is no compassion left on the earth since the rich and great turn
+away their eyes from distress!”
+
+The wail for alms was loud, for all the street to hear. Men looked for
+a prince, and beholding instead a pedlar of mean appearance, grinned
+and nudged each other as they hurried by. The words in parenthesis were
+low, for Saïd’s ear alone. Surprised, and a little disconcerted, he
+drew Selìm into the shadow of a wall, where they stood in no man’s way.
+Then he let go his handle of the skep and turned to observe the old
+beggar. Selìm, of course, did likewise, the basket compelling him.
+
+“What ails thee, brother?” he asked in concern. “What is there between
+thee and that old man? What was it he whispered thee?”
+
+“I met him once long ago,” rejoined Saïd, flurriedly. “He desires to
+speak with me apart. Maybe he brings news from my city, or of the woman
+I left sick by the way—Allah knows! Whatever his tidings, I must hear
+them.”
+
+The beggar had got up and was making his slow way across the street,
+just where it widened forming a little square or open court before
+the mosque. His goal seemed to be a passage on the further side, just
+discernible as black and yawning in the hovering night. Saïd could hear
+the rascal’s whine as he hobbled through the stream of wayfarers which
+thinned with every minute, moaning and beseeching Allah like one in the
+last decrepitude. He saw him gain the passage and disappear down it.
+Then, hastily begging Selìm to wait for him, he followed.
+
+The entry was pitch dark, so that peering in from the twilight he
+could see nothing at all. For two seconds Saïd was mortally afraid.
+The fall of night is an eerie time at best, and a dark tunnel with no
+perceptible outlet was just the place an afrìt would choose to lurk in.
+He recalled something devilish in the appearance of the old beggar, and
+was on the point of taking to his heels when a hand clutched his wrist
+and stayed him.
+
+“What fearest thou? I am alone!” The voice in his ear was peevish even
+to anger. “It is well seen thou hast sojourned in the city, for thou
+hast the courage of a townsman already. Come in here for I must speak
+with thee!”
+
+The entry grew less frightful to Saïd’s eyes. He suffered himself to be
+drawn into its gloom. Then in a trice the unseen speaker changed his
+tone to one of the gladdest welcome. He fell on Saïd’s neck and kissed
+him repeatedly on both cheeks, in spite of a curse-strengthened warning
+to keep off.
+
+“Thou art the very image of my son,” he explained with a rapturous
+laugh. “In truth I am minded to adopt thee as the child of my soul. Now
+tell me, beloved, how has it fared with thee since last we met? Thou
+wast carrying a basket, I observed!—art become a trader? Thou silly
+one! By the time thou art old like me it may be that thou shalt have
+wealth enough to purchase a rich garment. Out upon thee! Hast exchanged
+the merry game of life for drudgery?”
+
+Saïd drew a glowing picture of his altered fortunes, desiring to make
+his listener recognise the gulf fixed between a thriving and respected
+merchant and one who lives by alms. The embrace rankled in his mind
+as an indignity. He felt sullied and was eager to rid himself of the
+stain, which could be done only by greatly humbling his insulter. The
+old beggar heard him to an end, then he went on eagerly, as if nothing
+had been said,—
+
+“Now listen!—leave thy paltry business and join with me! I had once a
+son on thy pattern but I drove him from me because he would wed with a
+girl whose father was a leper. I am proud and have ever counted lepers
+as dirt under my feet; so I cursed him and let him go. If thou wilt
+thou mayst replace him as my partner. Mark well, I do not require thee
+to beg. Allah be my witness—no! It is for other business that I need
+thy strength and youth.”
+
+He sank his voice to a whisper, which seemed a snake’s hiss in the
+darkness. A lantern, borne swiftly past the grey mouth of the passage,
+illumined his face for a moment and showed it distorted with passion.
+
+“I seek revenge—revenge,” he repeated, clutching Saïd’s arm. “There is
+in this city a certain dog—an unbeliever, rich and thriving—may his
+mother’s grave be defiled and his religion perish utterly!—who wronged
+me years ago. I have waited a long time—too long—for the chance to
+strike back. I grow old, and he also. It may be I shall die soon, or he
+may die; and in the grave there is no satisfaction. I tell thee, the
+time narrows. But I am old and alone; I sometimes fear lest I prove not
+strong enough. My son—may Allah destroy him!—might have helped me
+had he not been faithless. Thou canst replace him. I promise thee all
+good things instead of thy trade. Every month is Ramadan in the life
+of a man like me. We fast all day and stretch out our hands to chance
+comers, and when the night is come we feast and are merry. I give thee
+this choice—a prince’s life or a mule’s; and in the end thou shalt
+have great riches—the treasure of the Nazarene I told thee of. What
+sayest thou? Nay, answer not hastily, but go to thy house and ponder
+this that I have said to thee. To-morrow I shall remain till noon in
+the cellar of Nûr, the harlot. Go to the coffee-house of Abu Khalìl,
+which is against the castle—he will direct thee further. Depart
+with my peace. By my beard, thou art mighty like my son—mighty like
+Mansûr—may Allah blast him!”
+
+Saïd lingered to question further, bidding Allah witness that to injure
+a Nazarene would give him the keenest pleasure, but he must have some
+notion of what would be expected of him. He was curious, too, to know
+why he, of all the city, had been singled out for confidence; but the
+old beggar checked him with,—
+
+“To-morrow, when thou hast weighed the matter, I will enlighten thee.
+Thou calledst thyself Emìr when first I met thee in the olive grove. It
+may be others shall so call thee after a year or two if thou consent to
+throw in thy lot with me. Go in safety, O my dear!”
+
+When he emerged again on the rough pavement before the mosque it was
+to find it deserted save by skulking dogs, and the stars intent upon
+it. The muezzin had long ago ceased chanting up in the gallery of the
+minaret. He had turned his face upon the spot where he had left Selìm,
+when,—
+
+“I am here, O Saïd,” came a low voice from close behind him.
+
+Glancing back he beheld his partner dragging their basket out of the
+gloom of the near wall, where he had been squatting. He must have
+overheard all. Saïd turned on him fiercely, ready to fly at his throat.
+
+“What dost thou here? Did I not bid thee await me over yonder? Art thou
+my keeper, and am I a child that thou must needs dog and spy upon me?”
+
+“Nay, O my brother, be not angry with Selìm! I listened not, though
+a word reached me now and then. How could I suffer my friend to be
+alone with a stranger in a place of evil seeming?—I know only that
+he tempted thee to forsake a thriving business and Selìm who is thy
+brother, and to cast in thy lot with him who is known for a beggar.
+Also I heard him appoint the house of a certain woman where thou
+mightest find him. The house of Nûr is infamous for a place of sin, the
+chosen resort of the most wicked.” His tone grew sad and reproachful as
+Saïd took the spare handle of the basket and they set forward once more.
+
+“In what have I failed, O my brother, that thou shouldst desire to
+leave me? Have we not all things in common? Have I withheld aught from
+thee that was mine to give? I have great love for thee, O Saïd, because
+of the days we have toiled together and the nights we have slept side
+by side. Also I am bound to thee for the sake of that rich robe thy
+kindness bestowed, which procures me honour in the sight of all men.
+Heed not, I entreat thee, the words of this stranger, but continue with
+me. It is slow—not so?—this laying of a little to a little. But in
+this business of ours, with care wealth is sure at all events in the
+end, whereas the fortune which he holds out to thee may come suddenly
+and without pain, but it is not sure. I once heard a wise man say that
+wealth gained without labour does not profit a man. He that said it was
+old and had been rich; I believe that he knew.”
+
+They threaded the stinking black tunnels and climbed the foul steps
+which led to their room. There, having set down the basket in a corner,
+Selìm busied himself with getting a light and then went out to fetch
+some supper from a cook-house, leaving his friend sitting thoughtful
+on a cushion by the wall. After a while Saïd rose and went out also,
+mounting to the roof of the house by an obscure stairway. Alone under
+the stars, with the murmur of the city like a floating veil around him,
+he prayed and gave thanks to Allah, facing southwards to where the dark
+mountains frowned like a stronghold. When he returned Selìm had ready a
+mess of lentils such as he loved and smiled to him to fall to.
+
+Saïd fell on his friend’s neck and kissed him.
+
+“By Allah, thou art a good man!” he cried. “Kinder than a brother hast
+been to me. May Allah blot me out if ever I forsake thee!”
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+At sunrise Saïd sat with the old beggar in the vault of Nûr the harlot.
+A beam of young daylight glanced through the open door on the worn
+flags of steps which led down from the alley without. A dewy mist of
+dawn flooded also a kind of small court, like a shaft between the
+houses, which pertained to the cellar and gave air and light to it
+through two open arches of masonry. By one of these arches a stone
+stairway was seen mounting up along the wall to a platform or landing,
+formed of a single slab, which was the doorstep of an upper chamber.
+There was a sumptuous room, old Mustafa told Saïd in an ecstatic
+whisper, softly carpeted and furnished with couches such as the maids
+of Paradise would not disdain. It was there that lovers of distinction
+met by Nûr’s contriving and spent happy hours together.
+
+Abu Khalìl, the taverner of whom, according to the advice of Mustafa,
+Saïd had inquired his way, had wagged his fat head knowingly when
+questioned concerning this woman.
+
+“The shameful name sticks,” he had said, “being like pitch—very hard
+to rub off. Yet she is now a recognized matchmaker and has access to
+every harìm. Young men who would have sight of their betrothed find a
+friend in her, and ladies who love other than their lords employ her,
+it may be, as a go-between. I speak not of my own knowledge,” he had
+added, shaking the dust from his robe. “That is what is said of her ….
+Thou askest why does she harbour a beggar? Allah knows! It may be she
+has a liking for Mustafa, who is a queer old man and says things to
+make one laugh. It may be that he gathers news which is useful to her
+in her business. There be many who bless her—this is sure. Perhaps a
+few curse her—that is not known.”
+
+Saïd found her tall and upright, strong and masterful as a man. She
+was quite old in spite of the enamel mask of pink and white which hid
+her wrinkles. Darkening matter artfully rubbed under her eyes to give
+them a languishing look could not altogether conceal the crow’s-feet
+beneath, and the eyes themselves had the hard, unnatural lustre of
+jewels, very different from the sparkle of youth. Her brown fingers,
+which she did not whiten until after noon, were loaded with rings,
+of which the large common stones—sard and coarse amethyst, onyx and
+amber—stood out like bunions. Bracelets and armlets of tarnished
+brass and silver rattled and clanked like fetters with every movement
+of her limbs; strings of glass beads and amulets of all kinds adorned
+her scraggy neck and her bosom. She was kneeling just then by the
+brazier, with swelled cheeks fanning a feeble glow that was loth to
+become a fire. She wore no veil, being at home, but the hood of her
+blue garment, richly embroidered with gold thread, which she could draw
+across her face when bashfulness was required of her.
+
+The old beggar sat with Saïd on the threshold of a dark inner room,
+of whose furniture no more was discernible through the doorway than a
+cushioned divan running round the walls. He was talking eagerly and
+fondling Saïd’s hand, touching now his leg, now his arm, as if he
+gloried in the strength of his new ally.
+
+“Now thou knowest why I have chosen thee and no other,” he was saying.
+“I loved thee on that day when first I saw thee because of thy likeness
+to my son, Mansûr. Since then I have been to thy city, where all men
+tell of thy flight as a strange thing. It was not known whither thou
+wast fled nor why, nor to what purpose. But I, being shrewd, asked
+them: Who profits by his departure? and they told me, ‘Abdullah abu
+Azìz, for the house and the fig-tree and the nets of Saïd are fallen
+to him.’ (Ah, he is a clever one—that Abdullah!—one who will surely
+rise to honour. I sat once in a tavern where he spoke of thee as a
+dear brother he had lost.) I perceived clearly that this Saïd the
+Fisherman of whom they talked was no other than the Emìr Saïd with
+whom I conversed by the way. I thought much of thee for the sake of my
+son, Mansûr, who forsook me, and also because I knew thee destitute.
+When a man has nothing he is not particular what work he undertake if
+only there be profit in it, and I stood greatly in need of such an one
+to help me in the business which thou wottest of. By my head, when I
+saw thee last evening in the street my heart leapt with joy as if thou
+hadst been in truth my son. Allah is merciful!
+
+“Now, hear the story why I hate Yuhanna the Nazarene. Attend now and
+judge whether I have not cause enough to execrate him. Many years ago
+I slew my sister with this right hand.” He sank his voice to a whisper
+with a meaning glance at the old woman. “She would have become even as
+Nûr there, I tell thee, had I suffered her to live. He lured her to the
+city, and then, after he was sated, he cast her out and placed her in
+a house of shame of which he was owner. But I found her. We were but
+poor fellahìn of no honour or account, yet not one of all my family but
+would have done as I did. I slew her and she bared her own breast to
+the knife.
+
+“It was in the days of Ibrahìm Basha the Egyptian—a good time, by
+Allah, though one must not say so now that the Turks are again our
+masters. But there was strict justice for all men then, a Christian
+being the equal of a Muslim in the eyes of the Government. I went to
+the house of the Cadi and I kissed the earth between his feet, and I
+told him all my story as if it had been a figment of my own brain. I
+asked him: ‘What would your honour do if it had been his sister?’ and
+he replied, ‘By Allah, I would slay her and destroy that infidel with
+all his father’s house.’
+
+“I answered: ‘Good, O my Lord: the first I have accomplished; the
+second I will perfect ere I die.’ At first he was angry at the fraud,
+for he had supposed me a professed taleteller; but afterwards he
+laughed, and called me a rogue, and bade me mind to do nothing which
+the law forbids.
+
+“The dog Yuhanna and the old jackal, his father, were rich after the
+manner of unbelievers, that is to say secretly and by foul means.
+Acting as the agents of a notable of this city they lent money to
+us villagers wherewith to buy seed and took the greater part of the
+harvest in payment. Between them and the tithe-farmer there was little
+left for us on our threshing-floors. They lent money also to the great
+ones of the Government and claimed no payment at all, thus gaining
+protection and influence beyond all others of their accursed race.
+After the abduction of Lulu, my sister, they conceived a hatred for my
+father’s house. They persecuted us—may Allah quench the fire on their
+hearth! Ah, they were clever!”
+
+He raised eyes and hands to the vaulted roof and remained thus a minute
+lost in admiration of their subtlety.
+
+“There came a bad harvest. They clamoured for immediate payment of the
+seed they had advanced to us, pretending to act merely as bailiffs for
+Muhammed Effendi, but the mind of the unbeliever was well seen in what
+followed. Our houses became the property of the notable, so they said,
+the property of Muhammed Effendi, but in practice theirs. My father and
+my brethren lived on in the village; they were like trees which have
+struck deep root in the ground, which to transplant is to kill. But
+I, being young and full of pride, chose rather to roam the land as a
+beggar than to feed as a slave from the hand of my enemy. I have had
+much joy of life since then, yet have I never forgotten the shame of my
+house nor the oath which I swore solemnly before the Cadi himself. And
+now that the allotted hour grows nigh, behold, Allah sends thee to me
+in the nick of time. By my beard, I blame thee not for forsaking thy
+woman; it seems to me that thou didst well to get rid of her. What use,
+I ask, in keeping her since thou sayest she was barren? And thou art
+more serviceable to me as a lone man. Allah is just!” He thought fit to
+embrace his new adherent and slobber over him in a very fatherly way,
+much to Saïd’s annoyance.
+
+“Enough! enough!” muttered the fisherman, pushing him off. “Of a surety
+I will aid thee in this business. But tell me, I pray thee, O my uncle,
+how came thy hand to be withered.”
+
+The old beggar threw back his head and laughed so that the whole roof
+of his mouth was displayed and its horse-shoe of broken yellow teeth.
+The subject considered, such merriment was frightful to Saïd; it made
+him shudder. The woman started up in alarm to her full height, and,
+with an oath, pronounced him mad.
+
+“Ah, ha, ha! I have a withered hand. It is curious—not so? Know then
+that it befell me in this wise: While I was yet new to the work I met a
+beggar who had his arm withered to the shoulder like the dead branch of
+a tree. He told me that it brought him great wealth and marvelled much
+how I could move pity, being whole and in the best of health. Inquiring
+if he had been born like that, he laughed at me for a simpleton. He
+said it is easy—nothing easier in all the world; and he promised to
+teach me the way of it. I had thought to take service as a muleteer or
+otherwise, but the talk of his riches and his merry life changed my
+mind. We were together two days and became friends. On the third day we
+reached the town and he sought out a certain dervìsh and brought me to
+him. I went in whole and sound even as thou art; I came forth with this
+hand in the state thou seest. It is a trick—no more. At first one has
+to be careful lest the blood should flow back to it; but that is all.
+It has been my stock-in-trade, the head of my wealth.”
+
+Of a sudden he bent down and pinched Saïd’s leg rapturously. “Aha, what
+a leg! Behold, O Nûr, how stout and strong it is! I know one in the
+city who would treat it for thee—up to the knee! By Allah, that is all
+I ask—only to the knee! Ah, it would look sweet—beautiful! It would
+bring tears to any man’s eyes when he compared it with its brother, and
+on one so young. Only up to the knee; what sayest thou? I tell thee, my
+dear, there is wealth in it—money—much money! But no, alas! it cannot
+be; for all thy strength may be needed in the work of vengeance.”
+
+There was something foul and inhuman about this rhapsody which made
+Saïd kick and edge away with loathing as from the touch of a ghoul. The
+old beggar eyed him reproachfully.
+
+“Ah, now thou art very like Mansûr—very like my son!” he murmured,
+with a remembering shake of his head. “Mansûr would never consent to
+have so much as a finger treated, though I besought him with tears for
+hours together. The young are ever so boastful of strength and blind to
+their own advantage. And now, O my soul, if thou art ready I will show
+thee the house of Yuhanna the Nazarene that thou mayest know it among
+others for the house of an enemy.”
+
+He rose and went to where Nûr was munching bread and olives, with
+jaws cramped by the stiff coat of paint on her cheeks. He whispered
+a few words to her, while Saïd stretched himself and yawned, glad to
+breathe free of a place which the queer behaviour of his new friend had
+rendered distasteful. Then together they mounted the broken stairs and
+issued forth into the dewy shadow in which the newly-risen sun steeped
+the narrow roadway.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+Mustafa led on by unfrequented tunnels and passages avoiding as far as
+might be the main streets, where professional pride obliged him to put
+on an appearance of extreme feebleness and whine despairingly as one in
+the clutch of a devil. At last, in a narrow lane between high walls,
+with never a lattice, he stopped before a low door which was open.
+
+“This is the house of the pig—the house of Yuhanna!” he whispered. “I
+will enter—it is the beggar’s privilege. Do thou follow as far as thou
+canst without being seen!”
+
+A narrow passage turned at right angles after a few yards, so that the
+interior of the house could not be looked into from the street. This
+notion of an entrance the wealthier Christians and Jews had borrowed
+from their Muslim neighbours. With the latter it secured the harìm from
+wanton intrusion when taking air in the courtyard, as common politeness
+prompts every visitor to cry aloud on crossing a threshold. In the
+case of the former it served chiefly to screen the inner luxury of the
+house from envious eyes, and so preserve its owner from extortion or
+robbery. In each instance plenty of rubbish and offal was strewn at the
+outer gate and the passage maintained in as foul a state as possible,
+as a blind to the tax-gatherer going his round of observation, that the
+house might be assessed at a low rate.
+
+On turning the corner Saïd was quite unprepared for the scene of
+splendour which burst upon his sight. There was a small quadrangle of
+two storeys high, its walls inlaid with arabesque figures as a frieze
+under the roof and as medallions between the windows. The pavement,
+worn uneven in places, was arranged in a chequer of black and white
+stone. A few lemon-trees in the centre formed a bower over a tank of
+clear water fed by a freshet that flowed through the midst of the
+court in a toy channel. But what charmed him and held his eyes, to the
+exclusion of all other beauties, was a girl twelve or thirteen years
+of age, with black hair plaited in two long tresses, and a skin like
+cream. She was playing with a baby boy in the rich shadow beyond the
+space of sunlight. A creeping plant upon the wall behind her had large
+green leaves and trumpet-flowers of gorgeous purple. A pair of white
+butterflies flirted above her head just where the sunlight veiled the
+shadow in golden dust.
+
+Her laughter, ringing clear and silvery in Saïd’s ears, seemed part of
+the spell which held him motionless there, at the angle of the passage,
+with a new hunger in his eyes. He licked his lips, which were parched
+of a sudden, and tingled from head to foot.
+
+The old beggar tottered across the open space of sunshine, making a
+great clatter with his staff upon the pavement.
+
+“Allah will give to thee, O my lady! I am a poor man and very old ….
+Have pity!… O Lord!… See, I have a hand that is withered! Allah will
+give to thee!… For the love of Allah, help me or I die. O mistress of
+beauty, O daughter of kindness, turn not thy face from my misery!… O
+Lord!… Allah will give to thee!”
+
+Saïd watched every movement of the girl ravenously, feeling uplifted by
+a great yearning. He saw her start in terror at the first sound of the
+old rascal’s plaint; but fear changed swiftly to compassion, and, with
+a gesture bidding him wait, she disappeared in the gloom of a doorway.
+His eyes remained steadfast on the place where she had last been.
+
+The old beggar stooped down as if to fondle the little child, but in
+reality to pinch him spitefully. A howl of pain uprose, which the
+honeyed words of Mustafa, spoken soothingly in a loud and whining
+voice, were powerless to abate.
+
+Presently the girl returned, followed closely by an old woman, who
+seemed a servant. With a smile which caught at Saïd’s breath she put
+some money in the old man’s palm and bade him go in peace. Mustafa
+kissed her lily hand repeatedly, while the old serving-woman took the
+baby in her arms and strove to quiet it. Then he hobbled away, ceasing
+not to praise Allah in a loud voice, calling down all blessings on the
+illustrious lady’s head, till he was in the gloom of the passage close
+to Saïd, when he muttered, with virulence,—
+
+“May the girl be ravished! May her father be slain before her eyes, and
+her little brother butchered in her arms! Allah witness, I have waited
+long enough. The hour of the ruin of this house draws nigh.”
+
+“She is a darling—a pearl!” breathed Saïd in his ear. “I am sick for
+love of her. As one athirst in the desert craves a cup of water, so is
+my desire for her. O my soul! O my eyes! O my beloved!”
+
+They were out in the street by this time. The narrow way was very
+quiet, the sun beating down fiercely upon it. There was no one in sight.
+
+The old beggar stopped short and confronted Saïd, striking his stick on
+the paving-stones.
+
+“Thou sayest well,” he hissed, surprise and glee together in his
+eyes, “very well! By Allah’s leave thou shalt enjoy her—if it were
+my last word, thou shalt possess her; so the dishonour of my father’s
+house shall be fitly avenged. Allah reward thee, O Saïd! child of my
+soul. A young man’s passion sees further at times than an old man’s
+forethought. Wait a little while in patience. The faithful grow mad
+against these pagans, who sit in high places by favour of the Franks
+they serve. I see the wrath of Islâm gather like a storm-cloud black
+and low over the dwellings of the infidels. I hear the voice of the
+thunder afar off. The heavens quiver because of the white lightning. A
+little while and the storm will burst to overwhelm the whole race of
+them.”
+
+Leaning on his staff, the old man lifted pious eyes to the strip of
+living blue stretched like an awning above the high white walls. There
+was something noble in his bearing as a prophet denouncing the wicked.
+For the first time Saïd felt in awe of him.
+
+“If Allah will thou shalt have her, I say! Of a truth thou lackest not
+understanding. I who am wise had never thought of it in all the years
+that I ponder the matter. Now thou art dearer to me than Mansûr—dearer
+than my own son! Have a little patience and I warrant thee thou shalt
+have her. Only forget not, when thy desire is spent, to put her away
+into a house of shame. Forget not that, I say, for it is the crowning
+point! So shall my vengeance be perfect. Praise be to Allah!”
+
+“May Allah increase thy wealth,” said the fisherman, moistening his
+lips. “By the Coràn, I care nothing for the treasure of the Christian
+pig so that I may have his daughter.”
+
+“Thou shalt have her and half of the treasure as well,” said Mustafa,
+rapturously, as they moved forward; “and when I die the whole of the
+treasure will fall to thee. Let Mansûr cleave to his leprous wife; I
+wash my hands of the dirt of him, for he is no more my son. In truth, I
+am very happy. I must not stretch out my hand to-day, for glad laughter
+would come in the midst of my plaint, and who would give to a joyful
+beggar? Come with me to the house of Abu Khalìl, where the coffee is
+worth a Turkish pound each cupful ….”
+
+He broke off and collapsed in a second from a hale and upright old man
+to a starving wretch with one foot in the grave. His withered hand
+thrust out before him, he tottered along, leaning heavily upon the
+staff; and his piteous moans wrung their meed of compassion from the
+heart of every passer-by. Saïd followed a few paces in his rear. Thus
+they traversed the junction of three busy markets—a place thronged
+to overflowing with a hustling, multi-coloured crowd, through which a
+train of camels laden with pelts were pushing a slow way, not without
+frantic shouting on the part of their drivers.
+
+Striking into a dark and deserted by-way, Mustafa resumed his natural
+shape. Saïd was inclined to be loud in his admiration of these rapid
+changes; but the old beggar dismissed all such flattery by a majestic
+wave of his hand.
+
+“It is habit, O my son! After well-nigh forty years of practice thou
+couldst do it as well as I—perhaps better—Allah knows!”
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+Abu Khalìl, the fat taverner, sat in the doorway of his shop, blinking
+at the sunlight on the rough stones of the castle wall. Piercing
+cries of importunate salesmen, warning shouts of donkey-boys and
+muleteers—all the hubbub of the neighbouring market reached him as a
+hum of insects. He nodded with it after the manner of the very fat, to
+whom the world’s bustle is a perpetual lullaby.
+
+A few dogs lay stretched in the sun’s eye as if they had a mind to be
+well roasted throughout. Beneath a dirty awning, spread to shelter a
+stall of candies and sherbet, a white-turbaned negro, its owner, was
+dozing in the yellow shade beside his wares, his cheek reposing on a
+certain dainty of white sugar, fine-spun and silky, which hung tangled
+tresses over the end of a wooden case. A tod of hyssop, springing
+from a rift in the old stonework, had dusty leaves and looked sickly
+in contrast with its pendant of deep shadow. A green lizard slumbered
+on a jutting stone. Abu Khalìl blinked at all these things until they
+mixed in rosy haze before his eyes. The lizard seemed to fall upon the
+awning, the negro and his sweetmeats were lifted up to meet it, the
+hyssop swelled to a great tree, and Abu Khalìl’s head dropped forward
+with a grunt of surrender.
+
+When Saïd and the old beggar came upon him he was fast asleep and
+snoring. His fat chin formed three several folds upon his breast, his
+hands were clasped loosely upon his well-filled girdle. He looked up
+with a start as their shadows fell short and black on the cobbles
+before him; but it was more likely the clap of their slippers which
+awakened him. With a noise between a camel’s groan and the puff of a
+swimmer he half-rose to welcome them. The huge mass moved grudgingly,
+forming strange creases at the joints.
+
+“May thy day be happy, O Mustafa! How is business?” he muttered
+sleepily, and fell back at once to the restful posture which suited his
+bulk. His glance of recognition at Saïd was keener, being mixed with
+curiosity.
+
+“So thou didst find thy way, effendi? I am happy.” His eyes expressed
+an indolent wish to know what could have drawn a young man whose beard
+was nicely trimmed, who was clad in a decent robe of striped silk not
+very greasy, to consort with that aged scapegrace.
+
+“What is there to eat?” asked Mustafa, choosing a seat within the
+tavern. “This day is a festival with me, for I have recovered my son
+who was lost. So I said to my soul: O Soul, we must rejoice and be lazy
+until the evening, because it has pleased Allah to restore my son to
+me who have been long desolate. Furthermore I said: O Soul, we will
+repair to the house of Abu Khalìl, the illustrious—may Allah preserve
+him to us!—where the coffee is worth a Turkish pound the cupful, and
+the smell of the fried beans would make a prince hungry. Ah, beans
+are excellent, O my uncle, and it is near noon. What hast thou in the
+house?”
+
+The fat host returned thanks for the flattering terms in which this
+demand was couched by half-rising as before, saluting, and wagging his
+head humbly. He called upon Allah to shower all blessings on the head
+of his friend Mustafa, to make him happy in his son; and then in the
+same breath—a long one for him—shouted crossly to someone within, by
+the name of Camr-ud-dìn, to pound coffee with all speed and prepare a
+mess of beans to fry. Then the spark of excitement died down and he
+became torpid once more.
+
+Saïd and his adopted father were earnest in their discussion of the
+beans when they appeared. The bowl might have been licked out by dogs,
+so clean they left it. Each drank two cupfuls of the famous coffee and
+accepted the offer of a narghileh. And then their words became ever
+less frequent, until they went the way of Abu Khalìl, falling fast
+asleep one after the other.
+
+For hours they dozed on by fits and starts. The place was very quiet
+except for a distant murmur from without, soothing as the sough of
+reeds in the wind, and an occasional din of pots and pans from the
+inner closet, where Camr-ud-dìn and his mother were always at work.
+
+When at last Saïd became wide awake it was towards evening and the
+tavern was crowded. With strained knuckles he rubbed the cobwebs of a
+dream from his eyes and let off the remains of sleep in a mighty yawn.
+Mustafa had removed his stool to a little distance, so as to be within
+earshot of a group whose talk appeared to interest him greatly.
+
+A young man, who seemed of consequence, was holding forth to a
+half-circle of humble admirers hanging upon his words with mouths
+agape. His turban, finely embroidered, bound a fez which, if not new,
+was certainly newly-blocked. His overcoat of emerald green, falling
+loose to his heels when he stood upright, was edged all over with
+fur. It was now flung carelessly open, displaying a robe of striped
+silk, own brother to that which Saïd wore, though the relationship
+was somewhat obscured in the latter’s case by dirt. The gravity with
+which he stroked his beard, at the same time letting his keen brown
+eyes range over the faces of his hearers, was very impressive. The
+confidence of his speech, and the rhetorical flourishes with which
+he emphasised each point, spoke him a lawyer, and might have spared
+him the frequent statement of his calling. Following the example of
+his companion, Saïd hitched forward his stool to listen. “I that am
+a lawyer and know what right is—I tell you,” the orator was saying,
+“that this state of things cannot endure. It is not to be borne. In the
+olden time, when the infidels were duly held in subjection under us,
+was there any strife?—I ask you, was there any such bitter hatred as
+there is nowadays? The fault lies with the Franks, who play the rulers
+in this land and presume to guide the hand of the Government. Is the
+Sultàn the servant of any man that they should thus lord it in his
+dominions? But two months since occurred a flagrant instance of their
+meddling, when a judgment of his Eminence, the Mufti, against a certain
+Nazarene was set aside as a thing of naught by the Wâly’s order. And
+for what reason?”
+
+The lawyer spread out his hands and smiled fiercely.
+
+“And why? Think you that his Excellency, the Wâly, would incline to act
+thus of his own volition? Never! It was because certain of the Frankish
+consuls went to him and said in his ear that Fulân was under foreign
+protection. Is the pride of Islâm dead that such things are borne with
+meekness? Is the tiger become a lamb?… I ask all of you here—Who is
+the governor of Damashc-ush-Shâm?—and you tell me, his Excellency,
+Ahmed Basha, his honour, the Wâly. I say no! and again no! Ahmed
+Basha—may Allah preserve him!—and all who bear rightful authority
+over us are but the servants of the Franks …. Behold they gather upon
+us like vultures, they contend which shall have the greatest share of
+the spoil—that is, of the wealth of Islâm. Woe is me, for the end of
+all things draws nigh! The cross is set above the crescent, the feet
+above the head. If any oppose them they cry aloud to their masters,
+the powers of Europe, and great ships are sent across the sea to lay
+waste our coasts; as was done, you may remember, not two years since
+at Jedda, where the townsfolk had risen as one man to exterminate the
+Christians. O Allah, Most High, how long must these things be? How long
+wilt Thou suffer the heathen to triumph over Thy faithful?”
+
+He paused with hands and eyes upraised. A fierce murmur of applause
+spread to the uttermost corners of the room. All the idlers had left
+their talk to listen. One or two that were unbelievers slunk out at the
+door, thankful for the excitement which allowed them to escape unheeded.
+
+“The Turks themselves are not much better than the Franks,” said a
+short man, hardily. “They say that the Sultàn is a pagan secretly. It
+is sure that his likeness—a thing forbidden and accursed—hangs over
+his head where he sleeps. Ah, if we sons of the Arab had but a Khalìfa
+of our own race we would shake off the Franks as a waking man brushes
+fleas from his raiment!”
+
+An awe-stricken hush followed this bold utterance. All looked to the
+lawyer, whose eyes were wrathful on the rash man who dared to speak
+treason in his presence in a public place. Himself had no great cause
+to love the Turks, but spies were everywhere, and it was always wise
+to speak good of the authorities. Besides, he hoped one day to obtain
+the post of Cadi, and to that end was anxious to stand well with the
+Government. Very sternly, therefore, he bade that madman hold his
+peace. The rebuke he thought fit to administer was thickly interspersed
+with praise of all the Sultàn’s delegates, from Ahmed Pasha, the
+nervous old general set to rule over a turbulent province, to himself
+who hoped some day to be Cadi. Then, when the seditious one had no more
+treason left in him, but was become limp all over and hung his head, he
+took up the burden of his previous speech.
+
+“These Christians wax rich. They multiply beyond measure while our
+numbers dwindle by reason of the thousands of our young men who are
+slain in war. The Christians furnish no men to the army; they swoon at
+sight of a sword or a gun. Yet they murmur because a tax is required
+of them in place of soldiers. They go weeping to their consuls because
+each of them is obliged to pay—it may be twelve piastres a year. Of
+old, as is well known, all the world that is under the hand of the
+Sultàn was divided into two houses—the House of Islâm and the House
+of War. Now the Nazarenes, being dwellers in the House of War, had to
+pay, each man, a small sum yearly for his life. It was just, for are
+they not the vanquished and their lives duly forfeit to Islâm. Now,
+by favour of the Government, that tax is remitted, and the bedelíeh
+askerieh laid on them instead. Yet they grumble, saying that the tax—a
+very light one—is too heavy for them to bear. Are they not rich? Do
+they not thrive and grow fat among us by trade and usury? The Frankish
+consuls, I tell you, are the root of their discontent. They stir them
+up to anger us, that there may be an excuse to destroy us. The Franks
+move us all as pieces in a game. They pit us one against another and
+stand by, ready to fall upon the conqueror and overcome him while he is
+weary. O day of misfortune! O day of ruin for the Faith!
+
+“You have heard how a Nazarene did lately pollute the harìm of a
+respected Muslim in this city. The culprit—Jurji by name—is now in
+prison awaiting his doom. Of right he should die, for a man’s house
+is a sacred place and a breach of hospitality is the blackest of
+all crimes in the sight of Allah. Yet it is known that a Frankish
+consul—one who has the ear of the Wâly—is active on his behalf. He
+may be released without punishment. What say you to that? Is so great a
+wrong to be borne tamely? Since these things are so, were it not seemly
+that the faithful should rise as one man against the heathen and slay
+every living soul of them, and burn their houses with fire? Allah is
+just!”
+
+The sun had set behind the mountains and twilight was stealing on the
+street without. The shadow in the tavern from being blue and limpid
+was become black and opaque. The coo of the doves floated on a tired
+murmur. Through the open door the negro merchant was seen to take down
+his awning, bestow his wares carefully in a battered packing-case, and
+finally to invert the trestle which served him for a stall, and laying
+the case and the folded awning between the legs, drag it away with him.
+The wall which closed the outlook was pale and dead-looking, the bush
+of hyssop making a dark blot upon it. Abu Khalìl was awake at last.
+He stood by the threshold of the inner room, trimming a lantern with
+ponderous leisure.
+
+The old beggar leaned forward with flaming eyes. He laid his sound hand
+on the delicate woof of the lawyer’s sleeve.
+
+“I am with thee, effendi!” he cried. “Whenever the cry of the Faith is
+raised, Mustafa will be ready! I will spare none of them!” he yelled
+with sudden frenzy—“not one! Old men and young, women and little
+ones, shall die, and in their death I will spit upon them and spurn
+them with my foot. But the girls, effendi”—he sank his voice to an
+eager whisper—“the girls should not be slain. There are sweet ones
+among them—not so, Saïd, my son? They whose fathers hate and revile
+the Faith shall give birth to true believers. Each one of them shall
+suckle a Muslim at her white breasts. I am with thee I say! But wait,
+thou hast not heard what was done to my sister, nor yet the oath which
+I swore before the Cadi in the time of Ibrahìm Basha the Egyptian. Aha,
+that is a good story—capital!…”
+
+With a gesture of contempt and impatience, in which there was a leaven
+of terror, the lawyer shook himself free of the old man’s grasp.
+
+“Thou art mad!” he exclaimed. “What have I in common with thee?” Then a
+little ashamed of the fear he had shown, he continued, in a very firm
+voice,—
+
+“Am I he that gives orders to the faithful? I do but utter that which
+every believer knows to be true. You have heard how it has been
+foretold that when the first of the sevens shall fall the ruin of Islâm
+will begin; when time shall invert the second it shall be completed.
+Are we not now in the year 1277 of the Hejra? The first of the sevens
+is about to fall, and with the third year hence the second will fall
+in its turn. In the insolence of the Nazarenes and the growing power
+of their protectors we see the seed of destruction. If the sun of the
+Faith must set—which Allah forbid!—I say let its setting be like unto
+its rising long ago! Let flames of burning houses lick the sky, and
+the blood of the idolaters flow like a great river. I foresee war. It
+breaks out in the Mountain, where the Mowarni openly declare themselves
+to be subject to the French alone. They grow boastful and overrate
+their strength. Soon they will provoke the Drûz, who, though less
+numerous than they, are braver by a great deal and better skilled in
+warfare. Who but Allah can foresee the end of it? But I, being a lawyer
+and learned, tell you that as a spark falling amid a heap of touchwood,
+so is a little war in a land of discontent. Though but ten men rise
+boldly against the heathen, in a few days there will be slaughter from
+Haleb to Oman! Allah be with you! May your evening be happy, O my
+friends!”
+
+With a slight reverence to the company, which called forth a storm of
+compliment and blessing, he rose, and gathering his furred garment
+about him sauntered forth into the twilight.
+
+Abu Khalìl had lighted the lantern by this time, and it hung from a
+hook beside the inner door. Its ruddy beams shone on swarthy faces of
+excitement, turned one to another in the flow of talk which comes,
+like a sigh of relief, after the strain of a thrilling story. To most
+men there it was nothing but a tale they had just heard; a little
+more stirring, perhaps, than other tales, because it told of a future
+they might all see instead of a past which they had never known. They
+speedily dispersed once more into groups, chatting eagerly of more
+homely topics.
+
+It was night—the time when devils lurk in every dark entry and keep
+festival in every ruined dwelling. One man told a gruesome story of how
+his brother once slew a jinni by accident. It happened in that very
+city, in a street not a hundred paces from where they were sitting.
+Even at that early hour the flesh of every listener crept deliciously,
+and close-shorn heads put forth bristles under turbans.
+
+His brother—the narrator laid proud stress on the relationship—was
+belated one night on his return home. His name was Kheyr-ud-dìn, a
+good pious man and a true believer. Walking down a certain street he
+came suddenly to an unseen barrier. He could pass his hand along it
+as along the surface of a wall; the feel of it was smooth like glass
+or tight skin. Yet there was nothing to be seen in the way; only the
+narrow lane in moonlight and shadow, and the dogs prowling in search
+of offal. Then he espied what seemed a sewn goat-skin for holding
+water, lying collapsed and empty in the midst of the causeway. And
+as he looked, behold it filled out and tightened, and began to roll.
+Kheyr-ud-dìn, who was a pious man, praised Allah, and marvelled much to
+see it rolling thus of itself, with none to push it nor any slope of
+the ground to cause displacement. And as it rolled, lo! it grew until
+it was huge like an elephant. Then he began to be afraid, and desired
+to go quickly to his own house. But the unseen wall prevented him, and
+all his strength availed not to break through it. Then he cursed the
+father of that wall, and its religion, and its aunt, and its first
+cousins, and its offspring down to the third generation, kicking it all
+the while and beating it with his hands. At last, being very angry, he
+took the knife from his girdle—a sharp knife with a fine handle inlaid
+of brass and silver—an heirloom in the family. With that he struck at
+the barrier and it ripped down like flesh.
+
+There was a hideous shriek; he was snatched suddenly out of the
+moonlight and the streets and whisked away to a place of darkness,
+where the king-jinni sat on a throne of fire. All the people of the jân
+were there, lurid in the red glow of their monarch’s seat. The king’s
+eyes were set slantwise in his head; his ears were long and leaf-shaped
+like the ears of a pig. He wore no turban nor any covering to his head,
+which was bald and dome-shaped, of the same colour as his face—that
+is to say mouse-colour. Flames shot from his eyes as he leaned forward
+to frown on the prisoner. All the people of the jân grinned horribly
+upon Kheyr-ud-dìn, and gave forth a hissing sound. He stood accused of
+slaying one of them, by the name of Yusuf. In vain he disclaimed all
+knowledge of the crime.
+
+“Thou liar!” said the king, turning a glance of fire upon him, which
+burnt right through clothes and flesh, and shrivelled the marrow of his
+bones. “Didst thou not rip open his belly with thy knife there in the
+open street? Is not his death shriek yet present in our ears? By my
+head, thou shalt die for it!”
+
+And all the people of the jân yelled frightfully, “He shall die! He
+shall die!”
+
+Then in his great distress he called aloud upon the name of Allah; when
+lo! in a trice he was back once more in the quiet street, and there
+was no barrier nor any waterskin, but only a few dogs skulking in the
+moonlight.
+
+Another spoke of serpents.
+
+“There is a kind of snake,” he said, “which has his dwelling on the
+skirts of the desert. He has neither head nor tail, but is round like
+to a pigeon. When one approaches him he does not hiss like other
+snakes, but barks like a jackal, and picks himself up and hurls himself
+at the man. You may laugh at what I tell you, but, by Allah, it is
+extremely true. My grandfather shot one of that kind with a gun which
+is now mine. I will show it you if you will favour me with a visit at
+my house. It is a good gun, and I wish to sell it. It is worth much
+money.”
+
+Quoth another,—
+
+“By the Coràn, but thy pigeon-snake is a light thing as compared with
+the mighty serpent of which I have heard old men speak. He traversed
+the land of old, devouring all things, even men and women, until at
+last he slid down from the crest of the mountain, glided under the
+sea as under the lid of a box, and was no more seen. He was clothed
+all over with long hair, part black, part white, like a goat’s; and
+his length was a day’s journey from head to tail. Allah have mercy—a
+strange thing!”
+
+Saïd would gladly have drawn near to listen. It was a kind of talk
+that pleased him, as befitting the hour. The tavern reeked of good
+cheer, the company was numerous enough to preclude real terror, while
+a glimpse of the gruesome, populous night from the open door gave a
+shuddering zest to each new story. The cellar of Nûr, too, where he was
+to sleep, was not far distant, and he was sure of Mustafa’s company
+in the walk thither. He burned to tell a marvellous story of what
+had befallen his uncle on a journey into Masr. The yarn had become
+popular, almost proverbial, in his native town, where it was known as
+Saïd the Fisherman’s story of the Blue Afrìt. Of all the dwellers in
+Damashc-ush-Shâm, Selìm alone had heard it. The adventures of other
+men’s kindred dwindled to everynight blunders wherever it was told.
+
+But the beggar’s skinny hand clutched his arm, enforcing attention. He
+yawned as he hearkened to the old man’s raving of blood and vengeance.
+The wild looks and wilder talk of his companion made him fear that
+he had cast in his lot with a madman. But then Mustafa gripped his
+arm tighter and looked into his eyes, and laughed, saying, “Aha! that
+was a good thought of thine. By the Coràn, I hold thee dearer than
+Mansûr—dearer than my own son! Shalt have her, dost understand? In
+sh’Allah, thou shalt possess her!” Saïd was reassured on the score of
+his sanity.
+
+Abu Khalìl, the fat taverner, looking round benignly upon the faces
+of his guests, marvelled much in his sleepy way to observe those two
+speak so earnestly together. Mustafa was hatching some beggar’s plot,
+he supposed; but the dutiful and submissive bearing of the young
+man towards his sire made a deep impression on his flabby brain.
+Camr-ud-dìn had that day cursed his father’s religion, which was his
+own, and Abu Khalìl had been properly indignant. In return he had
+cursed his son’s creed, as also his father and his mother. He felt that
+he was not blessed in his offspring, and in a dim, fat way he envied
+Mustafa.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+
+Between the cellar of Nûr and the tavern of Abu Khalìl the summer days
+passed lazily for Saïd. The year’s last rain had fallen. Each departing
+night left a burnished blue canopy over the city, on which the sun
+crept slowly like a snail of fire. The cry of the water-carriers grew
+sweet and ever sweeter in the ears of all men; and the street-dogs
+panted with lolling tongues as they slept.
+
+Every evening drew forth a great multitude to the pleasure-houses
+studding the gardens by the river bank. Men sat on stools, or
+cross-legged on the ground, sipping sherbet of almond or tamarind
+or rose, and chattered with the birds in the respite from a sultry
+day; while the sky glowed amethyst, then emerald, then beryl, and the
+earth’s bloom among the trees became a paleness of lilies.
+
+Once at sunset time Saïd went to the coffee-house of Rashìd, where
+he had slept that night with Selìm, to make inquiries concerning his
+former partner. But the landlord was gruff and slow to answer, so that
+Saïd abstained from further questions and returned thither no more.
+
+Every morning, about daybreak, the old beggar arose. Having broken his
+fast upon the soured milk and bread prepared for him by Nûr, he took
+up his staff and set out for some mosque or archway where was both
+shade and concourse—the two main requisites for a beggar’s seat. Saïd,
+rising perhaps an hour later, had the live-long day idle upon his hands,
+after he had brought water for his hostess and helped her to order
+her dwelling. He stood high in the good graces of the grim old woman:
+partly, no doubt, because of the little services he was ever willing to
+render, but chiefly owing to the lover-like attitude he adopted towards
+her.
+
+He used her reverently yet fondly, as the desire of his soul.
+
+It seemed a humorous thing for a free man to serve an old woman of
+evil repute; and Saïd, having once grasped the fantastic side of their
+relation, played his part thoroughly and with all the fervour of a
+devotee. From constantly cajoling her with flattery and impassioned
+words he himself came near to forget that a hag’s face underlay her
+mask of paint; and she, for her part, though alive to the cozenage,
+grew to dote on him as the apple of her eye.
+
+Sometimes, when the fragrant smoke of a narghileh made a philosopher of
+him for half-an-hour, he contrasted the lot of this old woman with that
+of Hasneh and other wives of poor men. Here was one whose name had been
+a byword for infamy living as a queen in her old age, extending bounty
+and protection to whom she would, exacting service as her due. The
+greatest of the city came under cover of the night to beseech her aid
+in secret business of the heart. Grand ladies of some notable’s harìm,
+veiled from all peril of recognition, sought her in their way from the
+bath or the perfumer’s on a like errand. Clandestine lovers made their
+heaven in her upper room. Each and all, fearing, blessed her and left
+gold in her hand. “Allah grant me as prosperous an old age!” thought
+Saïd. And yet Hasneh, the rough-handed and meanly clad, would have
+deemed herself the better of such an one. It was a strange thing!
+
+Another person who had conceived a warm liking for the fisherman was
+the fat taverner. As the bright pattern of filial devotion, Saïd was
+always welcome to meat and drink and a narghileh afterwards in return
+for occasional help in the service of the coffee-house. Abu Khalìl
+loved to ply him with parables and hard sayings, beginning always,
+“There was once a son,” and ending mostly in an attempt to cuff poor
+Camr-ud-dìn, the “son” in question. This unfortunate youth inherited
+his father’s tendency to fall asleep at odd moments. He would have
+become fat, too, like his father, had he been allowed to remain long
+enough in one spot. It was his constant chagrin that he could enjoy
+no rest, between waiting on customers and obeying his sire’s behests;
+for Abu Khalìl, though always dormant himself, would not let his son
+indulge in a moment’s lethargy. Camr-ud-dìn carried his grievance
+plainly written on his dirty brown face. He did everything under
+protest; and he loathed the sight of Saïd, who was for ever being held
+up to him for an example.
+
+Once or twice Saïd caught a glimpse of Selìm among the crowd in the
+streets, but on each occasion was able to dodge aside and avoid him. He
+would have rejoiced to know him happy and doing well, but was ashamed
+to meet him face to face. For this reason he shunned the great bazaars
+and more crowded ways in his walks abroad.
+
+At least once in every day he was drawn to the house of Yuhanna the
+Christian. Sometimes he went thither at evening, when a deep earth
+shadow wrapped the city, and the western hill was black against an
+orange glow; more often in the early morning, while the ways were yet
+shady. Hid in the angle of the porch he could observe all that passed
+in the court within. The very stones of the pavement had charm for
+him. His beloved came and went, appeared and disappeared, now crooning
+a love-song with her baby brother in her arms, now mocking the coo
+of the pigeons, now romping with a maid-servant. Whether she stood
+on tiptoe with head thrown back and arms uplifted, her long tresses
+reaching almost to her heels, to pull down the branch of a lemon-tree
+and see if a certain fruit were yellowing; whether she stamped her foot
+in sudden anger at the clumsiness of a servant, or slapped the child,
+who loved to bury his tiny hands in her hair and sometimes caused her
+pain—whatever she did was full of grace in Saïd’s eyes. He would
+con over her moods and postures afterwards as he lay awake at night,
+tossing feverishly with a fire at his heart. Crouching in the shadow
+of the entrance he feasted his eyes on her beauty of form and motion,
+until someone came to disturb him, when he stole back in the blue
+shadow of narrow alleys, shunning instinctively the sunlight and open
+places, with a singing in his ears.
+
+At such times he went not to the tavern of Abu Khalìl, but straight to
+the cellar of Nûr. The old woman listened kindly to his ravings, and
+soothed him with hints of hope, bidding him have but a little patience
+and he should be satisfied. The girl’s father, she said, was a wealthy
+merchant, a Nazarene, and under protection. It would be unsafe to carry
+her off in a time of quiet, for the Frankish consuls would be sure to
+clamour for vengeance. Alas, in these days none but a true believer
+could be wronged with impunity. But a change was at hand. Wherever she
+went—in the palaces of the great as in the cellars of the poor—she
+heard murmurs of discontent. Men’s forbearance was taxed to the utmost.
+A little more—a feather, it must give way, and then Allah knew what
+would happen! There would be riot—that at least was certain—and amid
+the confusion of a whole city’s rising one girl could be abducted and
+no man know it. Saïd must therefore wait and trust in Allah.
+
+He drew some momentary comfort from this assurance, but his desire
+grew with every day, threatening to consume him. Old Mustafa rejoiced
+secretly at the haggard looks of his young ally. He strove by all means
+to foster a longing which promised to fall in timely with his scheme of
+revenge. He spoke rapturously of the charms of Yuhanna’s daughter when
+they sat together among the gardens in the pale evening; and he would
+hug himself with glee when the fisherman leapt up and cursed the day he
+was born, beseeching Allah to strike him dead, for what was life to him
+without his darling!
+
+One morning, as Saïd lounged in the tavern of Abu Khalìl, a dehlibash
+entered, followed by an obsequious private. His uniform was that of the
+irregular troops distributed for a safeguard among the country towns
+and villages. He cast a keen glance round the coffee-house, passing
+over Camr-ud-dìn and his father and two Christian lads drinking arak
+together in a corner, until his eye rested on Saïd.
+
+“Yonder is the man for us—what sayest thou, ’brahìm?”
+
+“A strong man!—a fine man!” agreed the soldier, bending his right arm
+and feeling the muscle thereof to confirm his meaning.
+
+“Look here, O what is thy name?” said the officer, addressing Saïd; “if
+thou hast a mind to earn ten piastres, rise up and follow me!”
+
+If he wished to earn ten piastres! O day of blessing! O day of good
+luck! Upon his head he would serve his Excellency. To hear was to obey.
+Might Allah preserve his Honour’s life for ever! What might be his
+Grace’s further orders?
+
+The officer strode out of the tavern again, motioning him to walk with
+the private soldier. In this order they traversed the city. Passing
+out at an eastern gate they came to a wide-open space where grass grew
+in ragged patches. Under some big trees which bordered the parade
+ground was a motley gathering of men and horses. The arrival of the
+dehlibash was hailed with loud blessing and cringing salaams. A steed
+was apportioned to Saïd, while the officer counted his men.
+
+“Praise to Allah, the tale is complete!” he said with a sigh of relief;
+and then, looking at his watch, “It is lucky that it is so, for it
+wants but a half of the appointed hour. Here, ’brahìm, let this man
+wear thy paletot and give him a gun! At present he has nothing of the
+soldier about him. At an ordinary time it does not matter; but a friend
+whispered me this morning that the Wâly himself purposes to review us;
+and it is likely Abdul Cader will be with him. He is a great general by
+Allah, is Abdul Cader—his eyes are as the eyes of an eagle. Well”—he
+shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands in deprecation—“if the
+Government can only afford to pay seventy soldiers and I am obliged to
+maintain a hundred, is it my fault that they be not clothed like the
+Sultàn’s body-guard?”
+
+Saïd donned the soldier’s overcoat. The hood hanging between his
+shoulders irked him like a burden, so that he twisted his neck to see
+what was there, provoking shouts of laughter. Then he swung the carbine
+across his back, just as the order to mount was given.
+
+The dehlibash marshalled his troop, two deep, in the middle of the
+parade ground. Even thus, in the full glare of the sun, with glint of
+gun-barrels and prancing of steeds, the show was not a brave one. A few
+half-naked urchins, smitten with awe at the sight, stood to watch, and
+idlers from the city gathered to the spot. Presently there was a noise
+of shouting and a pair of outriders cantered out at the gate, followed
+at an interval of about a hundred yards by a group of horsemen in civil
+dress surrounding the person of the Wâly.
+
+Ahmed Pasha wore the official frock coat and dark trousers, his sober
+Frankish garb contrasting strangely with the gorgeous trappings of
+his charger. His pale, intellectual face appeared the whiter for the
+scarlet fez pressed low on the forehead. Beside him, on the left hand,
+rode that great one whom Saïd had seen in the court of the mosque,
+sitting with the Mufti and Ismaìl Abbâs. Two Franks, whose top-boots
+were very prominent, rode on the Wâly’s right, and a servile official
+or two completed the party.
+
+“Who is he?” Saïd inquired of a neighbour in the ranks.
+
+“Who? O stupid! Ahmed Basha, of course!”
+
+“No, I speak not of the Wâly; but say, who is that great one who rides
+at his left hand?”
+
+“Whence comest thou? Who art thou who dwellest in Es-shâm and dost not
+know Abdul Cader, the mighty chief of Eljizar whom the French took and
+imprisoned and at length banished hither! Hist!”
+
+The troop saluted after a fashion, and the Wâly began his ride along
+the ranks, chiefly to ascertain that the right number of men were
+there. He seemed mortified by the wretched appearance of the troop. The
+two Franks smiled openly, pointing out individual scarecrows one to the
+other. As luck would have it, something in Saïd’s bearing pleased Ahmed
+Pasha. He reined in his horse before him and made a remark over his
+shoulder to the Franks, who drew near with expectant faces.
+
+“Now, my man, thou that art a servant of justice in this province, I
+put a case to thee: Suppose thou foundest a Muslim and a Christian
+fighting together, what wouldst thou do?”
+
+Saïd reflected a moment.
+
+“May it please your Excellency, I should take the Kâfir to prison.”
+
+The Wâly bit his lip and rode on. The Franks tried in vain to stifle
+their laughter. Even Abdul Cader smiled and his eyes twinkled.
+
+His round of inspection over, Ahmed Pasha addressed some sharp words
+of admonition to the troops; and refusing to listen to the officer’s
+excuses, rode back again into the city. The crowd which had followed
+the governor dispersed after him. The soldiers retired to the shade of
+the plane-trees and there dismounted. Saïd and some fifty other faggots
+were paid off; and, being deprived of their guns and such soldierly
+garments as they had assumed for the nonce, sauntered away as civilians.
+
+In his road to the tavern of Abu Khalìl, the fisherman saw signs of
+unwonted excitement. The faces of the men he met had a fierce and
+eager look. Once or twice a Nazarene passed him, slinking along by the
+wall with the furtive side-glance of a dog that one stones. Drivers of
+camels and mules who seemed to come from the way of the mountains were
+beset by an eager crowd begging for news; while others coming off the
+desert passed unheeded save for the curses of those whom the advance
+of their laden beasts threatened to crush against the wall. Khans and
+coffee-houses were full to overflowing, and the sound of many voices in
+agitation came from their shadowy doorways. It was near noon—an hour
+when men are wont to move lazily, and the very camels seem to slumber
+as they rock heavily onward with jangling bells. But to-day all was
+animation. Even the street-dogs opened an eye, drew in their tongues at
+intervals and stirred uneasily in their sleep.
+
+Saïd accosted two men who were arguing and gesticulating in the shade
+of a merchant’s awning.
+
+“What is the news?” he asked.
+
+“Great news, O my uncle—news of moment! There is war in the Mountain
+and it is sure that the Mowarni have arisen and have destroyed twenty
+villages belonging to the Drûz. One that has but now arrived from
+Beyrût assured me of it. He saw the flames like stars on all the
+seaward slopes as he passed the ridge at sundown. It is sin, by Allah!
+for the Drûz are our brothers in this matter.”
+
+“Nay, by Allah! it is a lying report thou hast heard!” cried the other
+man, vehemently. “It is the Drûz who have risen up suddenly and have
+destroyed thirty villages of the Mowarni. It is true, however, what
+thou sayest, that the Drûz are our brothers. May their power increase!”
+
+The merchant before whose shop they were squabbling removed the ivory
+mouthpiece of a narghileh from his lips and crossed his legs more
+comfortably.
+
+“It is likely both of you are wrong,” he said. “The event occurred only
+yesterday, so the tidings are not yet confirmed. This is but the first
+rumour which we hear. It is surely greater than the truth.”
+
+Saïd hurried on his way with a full heart. Wild fancies, that were half
+hope and half project, throbbed in his mind. The time foretold of the
+lawyer was come; the day to which Mustafa looked for vengeance was at
+hand. A fire was kindled on Lebanon, and a strong wind blew from the
+sea. The smoke was driven over the great city, and there were sparks in
+the smoke. Es-Shâm was as a heap of tinder carefully prepared. Through
+vague pictures of riot and bloodshed he saw the daughter of Yuhanna
+as he had first seen her, fondling her baby brother in a blue shadow
+which the intervening sunlight dusted with gold. The vision was perfect
+even to the purple flowers on the wall at her back and a pair of white
+butterflies sporting above her head. The vividness of it pained Saïd,
+causing heart and brain to ache.
+
+The tavern of Abu Khalìl was crowded and uproarious when he reached it.
+Just within the threshold, forced outward by the press, stood the host
+himself with back to the sunlight. By his manner of standing he seemed
+anxious and ill at ease. The expression of his face when he turned was
+the same which Saïd had seen it wear when knives were drawn in the
+house or a customer flew at another’s throat. With a touch of the hand
+and a whispered salutation the fisherman slipped past him and edged his
+shoulder into the throng. Stools overturned were being kicked about
+among the feet of the disputants. Clenched hands were shaken fiercely
+in angry faces. Every man believed himself to be possessed of the truth
+of the matter and resented his neighbour’s statement.
+
+“Thirty villages!”—“Twenty!”—“No, a hundred, I tell thee!”—“The
+Drûz, by the Coràn!”—“The Christians for certain!”
+
+In the thickest of the crush Saïd descried an emerald mantle edged
+with fur. It shone out brightly amid the ruck of soiled robes of every
+conceivable colour, blue predominating. An embroidered turban binding a
+newish fez was conspicuous in like manner. The young lawyer, who came
+thither to converse with clients, was struggling to obtain a hearing.
+
+“I who am a lawyer tell you that it behoves all men to keep peace at
+this crisis!” Saïd heard him cry. “Let the unbelievers extirpate each
+other—Durzi and Marûni. The Franks are powerful and wish ill to Islâm.
+They will cause all who take part against the Christians to be put to
+death. What profit has a man though he destroy his enemies if he die
+for it? The Wâly has summoned the Council of Notables. They will take
+strong measures to prevent a disturbance. Calm your minds, I entreat
+you, all of you!”
+
+Derisive shouts drowned his prayers. The old beggar sprang forward and
+gripped his shoulder. He swung the lawyer round so that he could grin
+in his face.
+
+“What is this, effendi?” he said with a mad laugh. “Does a man change
+his mind with each moon? A little while since, when the chance of war
+seemed remote, thou wast a lion, exhorting us to battle with brave
+words. But now, on the eve of the tumult thy heart grows faint. In the
+beginning, when there is but a spark, it is easy to fan it or blow it
+out, whichever one please; but afterward, when it is become a great
+fire all the breath of a man avails not to extinguish it. Courage, O
+Excellency! It is a creditable thing to be chief among men. Be sure
+I will give thee all honour, and praise thee as my leader in this
+business!”
+
+With an oath the lawyer tore himself away. His face was vivid as he
+pushed through the noisy crowd to the door. He passed quite close to
+Saïd, so that the latter could hear him mutter under his breath,—
+
+“A madman—dangerous to the peace of the city—I go straight to
+denounce him. With Allah’s leave he shall be in a gaol ere sunset!”
+
+Saïd watched him shuffle away in the direction of the Wâly’s house,
+keeping close to the castle wall, as though its strength were a
+protection, the skirts of his emerald coat bellying behind him. Then he
+elbowed his way to where Mustafa was leaping and dancing like a maniac
+in the midst of the press, screaming curses on the Christians to the
+joy of all.
+
+Saïd plucked his robe and whispered, but the old man shook him off at
+first and raved more frantically than ever. But by dint of repeating
+his warning in a louder tone, and dragging him by main force towards
+the door, he at length won him to hear reason. They went out together
+into the blinding sunshine, Mustafa cursing all lawyers and their
+kinsfolk.
+
+On reaching the cellar where they lodged, “Allah is gracious! The time
+is come, O Nûr!” cried Mustafa, capering and waving his skinny arms in
+a frenzy of glee.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+
+In those days the taverns of the city were never empty except at dead
+of night. Each sun brought fresh tidings of a rousing nature; and the
+excitement of the vulgar is a gossip who must chatter or die. It was
+soon known for certain that the Maronites had been the aggressors in
+the first place; but now the Drûz were slaying them like sheep all
+along the mountain.
+
+“Of a surety, the Drûz are our brothers!” was the judgment of every
+true believer. “It is not true, what is commonly told of them, that
+they worship a calf in secret places. By the Coràn they are no
+idolaters. They fall not prostrate before pictures of women and sheep,
+as do the Nazarenes; but worship Allah even as we do. May they utterly
+destroy their enemies, who are ours also!”
+
+Men went about their work distractedly with brains on fire. Unrest was
+everywhere. The sunlight itself, which baked the roofs, quivered of
+anticipation. The crescent gleaming on dome and minaret had a message
+for all the faithful.
+
+Only in the Christian quarter fear reigned amid a deathlike hush. The
+few inhabitants who ventured beyond its limits were hustled and spit
+upon. True believers cursed and reviled them so that they grovelled in
+terror of their lives. There was menace in the very air, so that they
+breathed it with deprecation.
+
+In the dewy shade of an early morning Saïd bent his steps towards the
+house of Yuhanna. Wrapt in thought of his beloved he walked as in a
+dream. The ways were cool, he was conscious of a strip of radiance
+overhead, he saw men move as shadows. At a joyful shout of his own name
+he started as though one had struck him.
+
+“Is it indeed thou, O Selìm?” he cried. “O day of joy! How goes thy
+business?”
+
+The memory of his former scurvy treatment of the muleteer made him a
+little backward in cordiality. But upon Selìm embracing him tenderly
+as a brother, with no more than a playful reproach on the score of
+his desertion, he was truly delighted to see him once again; and they
+walked on, hand in hand, so far as their roads lay together. Saïd
+had little to relate. His life since their parting had been lazy and
+uneventful. Of the all-absorbing topic of Yuhanna’s daughter he cared
+not to speak, being far from secure of his friend’s approval. But
+Selìm, on the other hand, had much to tell. Alone, he had carried on
+the old business for a few days, in the hope of Saïd’s return; but
+things had not thriven with him. The voice of the master was gone,
+and he might shout till he was hoarse in praise of the wares, yet
+few paused to examine them. So he sold the remnant of his stock to a
+dealer for what it would fetch, and journeyed to the mountain-village
+where was his home, to dandle his baby and take counsel with his
+woman. On his return to the city he applied for help to Ismaìl Abbâs,
+the Sherìf—Saïd remembered?—who received him very kindly and gave
+him a letter—guess to whom! to Ahmed Pasha, to his Highness the Wâly
+himself! In short, he was now a member of the Governor’s household,
+receiving bakshìsh from all desirous to curry favour in his master’s
+neighbourhood.
+
+He was in the way of honour, and (under Allah) he thanked Saïd for it.
+Had it not been for that rich garment Saïd gave him he would never
+have caught the eye of the great Ismaìl Abbâs in the first instance.
+Moreover, he praised his friend’s generosity and self-denial in that
+he had not taken his share of the slender profits of their partnership
+away with him. It was a magnanimous action, but then Saïd was ever the
+father of kindness. He had grieved much for the loss of his brother,
+and had even been to the cellar of Nûr seeking news of him. But the
+mistress of the house—a tall old woman with painted eyes—had been
+short with him and he could learn nothing from her.
+
+Saïd’s heart smote him as he listened. Allah had blessed him with the
+truest friend ever man had, and he had slighted the gift. He squeezed
+Selìm’s hand and swung it lightly to and fro as they walked. Might
+Allah destroy him utterly and quench the fire on his hearth if ever
+again he gave this good man cause to reproach him.
+
+“I rejoice in thy happiness,” he said when the time came for them to
+part. “And what is the mind of his Excellency the Basha with respect
+to the war of the Mountain? Wait a little and there shall be war in
+Es-Shâm on the pattern of it.”
+
+“Alas, O Saïd, they say in the palace of my lord that should the men
+of Es-Shâm follow the example of the Drûz, then the downfall of Islâm
+is sure, for the Franks will avenge the Nazarenes, that is known. The
+Wâly himself is very anxious: it is said that he weeps at night in his
+chamber. He is a great general of renown, but he loves study better
+than government. One of the soldiers of the guard, who has served
+under him in the wars of Europe, tells me that he was ever a great
+general—none greater—upon paper: victory waited on his science; but
+he loved not the turmoil of a battle and its perils.
+
+“His mind is now torn asunder by the demands of the Franks wishing one
+thing, and the advice of the elders of Islâm, who desire the opposite.
+In truth, it seems to me who am a small man and no politician, that he
+hearkens too willingly to the speeches of the Franks, the sworn enemies
+of the Faith. It was no wise thing that he did yesterday in ordering
+the dog Jurji, who did outrage on the harìm of Asad Effendi, to be
+released without punishment. The Franks speak as lawyers on behalf of
+their clients, and they strengthen their pleading by threats. This
+pardon of an evildoer, simply because he is a Nazarene, will madden the
+faithful. As I came just now through the long bazaar, a band of youths
+armed with sticks passed me, running towards the Christian quarter,
+vowing they would do justice on Jurji with their own hands. I fear
+the Wâly has been ill-advised in this matter. He is a great man and
+a politic, but he is weak, and the Franks overbear him. I fear there
+will be trouble. Thanks be to Allah that Selìm is not the great Wâly
+of Damashc-ush-Shâm, but only a small servant whose duty is plain. May
+Allah guard thee in safety till we meet again!”
+
+They parted. Selìm was quickly lost in the shifting crowd of a roofed
+bazaar, while Saïd, striking into a quiet alley, pursued his way to the
+house of Yuhanna. The news of the release of Jurji rankled in his mind,
+making him venomous towards the Christians.
+
+As he passed the threshold of the outer door, seeking that corner of
+the entrance passage whence he was used to spy on his delight, he
+stumbled on a pitcher someone had left there. The earthern vessel
+crashed upon the stones and was shattered to bits. The noise was enough
+to bring the whole household running to the spot. Bitterly cursing
+the accident, Saïd took to his heels. A little way up the lane he hid
+himself in the angle of two walls.
+
+Presently, as he stood there waiting till the alarm of the broken pot
+should have had time to subside, he heard loud voices approaching.
+A rabble of Muslim lads burst into the narrow way, cursing all the
+Nazarenes, and yelling that they were come to do justice on Jurji
+the evildoer and destroy his father’s house with fire. Most of them
+carried sticks; some had long knives in their hands. Seeing a man look
+out from the door of Yuhanna’s house they chalked the sign of the
+cross ostentatiously on the pavement, spat upon it, and trampled it
+underfoot. The head was quickly withdrawn and the door shut and bolted
+from within.
+
+This seemed rare sport to Saïd. Lifting up his voice against the
+Christians, he joined himself to the mob.
+
+They paraded the entire quarter, reviling all they met. Here and there
+a man cried shame upon them, but the most part slunk past them along
+the wall with a cringing salutation. At length, growing weary of their
+unchallenged progress, they were about to disperse, when a happy
+thought occurred to Saïd. He imparted it to his comrades, who were loud
+in acclamation. Such as had knives set to work to cut short lengths
+of stick, which they bound two and two together so as to form rough
+crosses. Then they took hold of the street-dogs, which lay around them
+by dozens, tied a cross under the tail of each, and with a kick sent
+them howling in all directions.
+
+The fun was at its height when a man dressed in the Frankish fashion,
+but swarthy and wearing a fez, emerged from a doorway close by in
+earnest conversation with a Muslim in a fur-edged mantle of emerald
+green. He of the foreign garb cast one searching glance at the crowd,
+and then, seeing its occupation, walked off hurriedly, dragging the
+lawyer along with him.
+
+“Dìn Muhammed!” Saïd yelled after them in derision. “Behold we follow
+thy advice, effendi!”
+
+“Dìn Muhammed—Allah! Allah! Perish the unbelievers!” shouted a few of
+his companions; but the greater part were silent, seeming afraid.
+
+“It is the dragoman of the Muscovite Consul,” one murmured with
+consternation. “He knows me well, whose son I am. He will surely lodge
+information against us and we shall be imprisoned for this day’s work.”
+
+“Let us after and slay him!” cried another, valorous from a whole
+morning spent in insulting men with impunity.
+
+“Let us go quietly each to his own place!” pleaded a third, who had
+cause for alarm, being well-known to the dragoman.
+
+His advice seemed best to all, and they disbanded forthwith. Saïd went
+to the coffee-house of Abu Khalìl, where he smoked a narghileh. The
+tale of his morning’s pastime made the fat taverner quake with inward
+laughter. Camr-ud-dìn and his mother stopped work to listen; the
+customers applauded it as a merry jest. He was obliged to repeat it
+from the beginning for every new-comer. At midday he made a hearty meal
+of lentils and bread, drank a cup of coffee, and disposed himself for a
+nap.
+
+About the second hour after noon he was roused by a strong hand on his
+shoulder shaking him. To the first blurred glance of his sleepy eyes
+the whole tavern seemed full of soldiers; but when he sat up he found
+there were but four of them.
+
+“A scar on his forehead,” one was saying, as if he read over a
+description in writing, “the beard black, tall and robust, the son of
+perhaps twenty-three years, his raiment striped of blue and yellow,
+soiled. This is the man, by Allah!… Arise, O my uncle, and come along
+with us!”
+
+“What means this? What evil have I done?” Saïd rubbed his eyes and
+stared aghast.
+
+“Who said thou hadst done any wrong? Not I, by Allah! To my mind thou
+didst well to spit upon the infidels; would to Allah thou hadst slain
+a few of them! But it is the Wâly’s order that thou go to prison. Make
+haste, O lazy one!”
+
+Saïd was dimly aware of Abu Khalìl quaking and wringing his hands
+somewhere between him and the sunlight, of the voices of Camr-ud-dìn
+and his mother mingled in curses upon the soldiers and their ancestry.
+Then he was led out into the white glare of the street, where a small
+crowd of idlers and ne’er-do-wells gaped upon him, and ran along with
+his captors as an additional escort.
+
+It was clear that the guards had orders to avoid all crowded
+thoroughfares, for they hurried him through dark tunnels and passages
+and along mean alleys of an evil savour. But with all these precautions
+they were obliged to cross the open space before a large khan at
+an hour when traffic was at its height; and such a group was sure
+to attract notice, even without the little crowd which followed it
+implicitly as the tail the dog. The person of the prisoner was much
+scrutinised, and questions were put to the soldiers, who answered with
+an “Allah knows!” and a surly shrug. All at once a well-known plaint
+struck Saïd’s ear.
+
+“Allah will give to you!… For the love of Allah, take pity or I die!… O
+Lord!… Allah will give to you!…”
+
+He started, and then howled “Mustafa!” with all the strength of his
+lungs.
+
+“Hold thy peace, O fool, lest I strike thee on the mouth!” hissed the
+chief of his escort fiercely.
+
+But the old beggar had heard his cry. The crowd parted suddenly, giving
+way to a wild, lean figure a-flutter with rags. Mustafa raised hands
+and eyes to Heaven for horror of what he saw.
+
+“What is this?” he shrieked. “Allah cut short their lives! They have
+taken my son—the staff of my days!—the light of my eyes!… These sons
+of iniquity have robbed me of my son!… O Allah!… O Lord!… O men of
+Es-Shâm—O fathers of kindness, will you suffer this great wrong to be
+done in your sight? By the Prophet, there is no sin in him!… O Lord!…
+He was ever been a good son and a pious. Say, O Saïd, for what cause
+have they taken thee and bound thy hands? Let all men judge of thy
+innocence!”
+
+“For the cause that I cursed the heathen!” shouted Saïd, at the cost of
+a smart blow on the mouth, which made his gums bleed.
+
+“O Lord!” screamed the old beggar, dancing and rending his clothes as
+one gone mad with grief. “See, they strike him! There is blood on his
+lips!… They side with unbelievers!… They buffet the champion of Islâm
+and lead him to prison!… O men of Es-Shâm, O faithful people, you have
+heard his crime from his own mouth!… O Lord!… Rescue him!—rescue my
+son!—my only son!—the staff of my life!”
+
+The soldiers and their charge were at a standstill, a crowd pressing
+upon them from every side. There was a sound of muttered curses on
+all hands, and the shrieks of the old maniac seemed ominous to the
+guardians of law and order.
+
+“Bah! it is nothing,” shouted the chief of the party so as to be heard
+afar. “He will be rebuked and lie idle in gaol for a few hours …. By
+Allah, we are no infidels but true men. That old rogue there lies when
+he says that we side with the Nazarenes. Allah be my witness, it is a
+lie! But the Wâly’s order is upon us, which to hear is to obey, and
+those who dare to resist us do so at the risk of heavy punishment ….
+Oäh! Oäh! In the name of the Sultàn, make way, I say!”
+
+By soft speaking, mingled deftly with threats, he managed to force a
+path through the press. In the quiet alley into which they plunged
+directly he cursed Saïd for a madman and threatened him with every kind
+of torment as the guerdon of his misbehaviour. There was peace again,
+and the soldiers were able to breathe freely. They waxed courageous and
+blustered as Saïd became sullen and crestfallen. But the old beggar
+had joined the faithful few who clung to them through all vicissitudes
+of the road; and he ceased not to revile and execrate them, imploring
+Allah to strike them all dead and so release his son, until he had
+watched Saïd disappear within the gate of the prison. Then he sped
+fleet-foot to the vault of Nûr, to take counsel what was next to be
+done.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+
+Saïd’s first impression of the gaol would have been a pleasant one but
+for the dejected looks of its inmates and the foul stench pervading
+its atmosphere. His captors left him unshackled in an open quadrangle.
+An arcade supporting a flat roof made a sort of verandah on two sides
+of it, affording shelter to the prisoners from the glare of noon.
+The remainder was shut in by a high wall, in which was the entrance
+gate, strongly barred and further secured by a small guard of soldiers
+hardly less wretched in appearance than the criminals themselves. On
+one hand the rays of the sinking sun were warm upon wall and pavement;
+on the other, a deep blue shadow stretched out from the arcade before
+mentioned almost to the middle of the court.
+
+Saïd stood for some time where his escort had left him, just within
+the gate. His eyes strayed over the various groups lying or squatting
+in the shade or striding wearily up and down in the red glow that dyed
+the eastern wall. Most of them were ragged; all were dirty, with the
+exception of three young men, who sat aloof together, cross-legged, on
+the edge of the sunlight. The gaiety of this little party, talking and
+laughing bravely in the face of misfortune, attracted Saïd even before
+he knew them for his associates in transgression. His approach was
+hailed with shouts of welcome, and he was made to sit down with them.
+
+They affected to treat their imprisonment as a jest. It was not
+likely, Saïd agreed, that men would be greatly punished for so slight
+a misdemeanour. The Wâly was a Muslim, and all believers must surely
+feel with them. Their arrest was only a sop to the Franks. That
+dragoman—curse his religion!—had complained to the Muscovite Consul,
+his master; and the Consul had gone in a rage to Ahmed Pasha, who was
+ever ready to humour a Frank in small matters. The Consul’s word was
+law: the ring-leaders were put in prison. On the morrow they would be
+brought before a council of true believers, gently reprimanded and set
+at liberty.
+
+Thanks to these assurances, and a good supper which a soldier gladly
+brought in for them from a neighbouring tavern, Saïd slept well enough
+that night, though on the bare stones. He had no money to procure
+bedding such as his friends obtained from the gaolers for a trifle of
+bakshìsh. But having supped well at their expense, and being used to
+rough couches, he scarcely envied them the luxury. He awoke in gladness
+to the prospect of a speedy release. But the day wore on, and the
+little company sat ever in the shadow of the arcade, gazing at the gate
+until their eyes ached. They murmured and grew despondent; darkness
+returned and they were still in durance. Saïd slept ill that night;
+his companions moaned and stirred uneasily in their sleep. They were
+forgotten, or the Franks had poisoned the Wâly’s mind against them. In
+either case they had small cause to rejoice.
+
+About sunrise, Saïd was awakened by the clank of an iron chain. A
+peevish voice bade him arise and that quickly. He scrambled to his feet
+and looked for his companions. They were standing a little way off,
+under a strong guard of soldiers. Their limbs were fettered, and they
+were linked together by a heavy chain. He read blank dismay in their
+faces.
+
+“What is this? What have we done to deserve such usage?” he asked
+indignantly, as two men, detached for that purpose, fitted irons to
+his wrists and ankles. There was no answer; the men seemed morose yet
+handled him gently. Upon his repeating the question in a louder tone
+the officer in command, who appeared in a towering rage, turned on him
+fiercely.
+
+“Thou mayst well ask what is this! I myself know not the meaning of
+it! Perhaps the Wâly is possessed with a devil—Allah knows! To hear
+is to obey; but to carry out such an order is a shame for one who is a
+Muslim. May all the Franks perish utterly!… Know that the dragoman of
+the Muscovite Consul—a Christian and the son of an Arab, may his house
+be destroyed!—was closeted with his Excellency yesterday afternoon.
+And a little later I received the order for your punishment; that you
+are to sweep the streets of the Christian quarter in chains. Allah
+witness, I count it a sin and dishonour to the Faith. Notwithstanding,
+to hear is to obey!”
+
+He turned aside with a shrug to give a word of command to one of his
+men. Four common brooms were brought and distributed one to each of
+the convicts. Saïd was coupled on to the chain with the others, and
+thus bound together they were marched out at the gate, while every
+prisoner that was a Muslim ground his teeth and howled with rage at the
+indignity. The ragged privates who kept the door murmured together with
+lowering brows.
+
+“Jurji, the Nazarene, that was a malefactor, was set free without
+punishment,” Saïd heard one of them growl; “while these believers, who
+have done nothing to be called a crime, are condemned to dishonour the
+Faith. In truth, the end of all things is at hand!”
+
+Their road lay past the gateway of the great mosque. The sight of
+the white minaret with its crescent glittering upon the blue brought
+scalding tears to men’s eyes for the honour of Islâm which was dead.
+The cooing of the doves had a new and mournful note in it. The
+prisoners walked listless with downcast faces; the soldiers closed in
+to screen them, as far as might be, from the stare of the populace. But
+the guard themselves were sullen and dejected; the work in hand being
+a heavy burden on their minds. Suddenly a piercing cry broke upon the
+hush in which they moved.
+
+“O Lord!… I behold my son—my only son—the staff of my age—whom
+the children of sin took from me! The slaves of iniquity have loaded
+him with chains—Allah, cut short their lives!… By the Coràn, he is
+no evildoer, but a pious man and a faithful—who did but curse some
+Nazarenes and spit in their faces. It is for that they have fettered
+and bound him!… O Lord!… Shall these things be done under the sun and
+in the sight of all men? Merciful Allah!”
+
+The soldiers quickened step, but the voice went along with them, as it
+were a knife stabbing their hearts, which were sore enough already. Why
+did not the sun veil his face and spread a darkness over all the city
+that the shame of Islâm might be hid? Oh, that Allah would cause the
+earth to yawn and swallow up the infidels, as he did for Neby Mûsa of
+old; that all the world might know that God was still watching over his
+faithful as in the time of Nûh and Ibrahìm and Ismaìl, as in the days
+of Daûd and of Isa, and of Muhammed (peace to him!), his apostle. O day
+of woe! O cursed day of infamy!
+
+That was a proud morning for the Christians. They swarmed in the
+streets of their quarter with exultant faces. The day of their
+deliverance was come at last. The conquerers were become the slaves of
+the conquered, to sweep their streets for them. They gloated on the
+sight with the coward’s triumph, who, seeing his foe laid low by a
+stronger than himself, spits valiantly in his face and cries, “Mine is
+the victory!” Secure of protection, they took pleasure in taunting the
+prisoners, cursing them for sons of dogs and mocking them with proffers
+of water when they seemed weary. The pent-up venom of centuries was on
+their tongues. The poor earthworm hissed like a snake.
+
+A number of the faithful had flocked into the quarter, drawn chiefly
+by the frantic outcry of the old beggar. They failed at first to grasp
+the position. The valorous attitude of the Christians only shocked and
+bewildered them. But no sooner did they learn what work was doing than
+their eyes grew fierce with the old pride of Islâm—the battle-pride
+of their forbears, who had carried the white crescent on the green
+flag victorious from India to the Atlantic. There were scuffles, and
+Christians were hurled to the ground. The press grew menacing about the
+sweepers and their guard. The soldiers looked anxious. The prisoners
+were ordered to cease work, and the officer, foreseeing a riot, was
+minded to take them back to prison on his own responsibility. The
+courage of the Nazarenes began to waver. The older and wiser of them
+slipped quietly into the nearest houses. But the younger and more
+turbulent, loth to forego one tittle of the unwonted pleasure of
+retaliation, remained in the street, hurling insults at the religion
+of Muhammed, and all professing it. Even thus they outnumbered the
+believers, who, however, were constantly on the increase as the rumour
+of a tumult spread through the city. In vain did the captain attempt
+to draw off his men, for they were locked in the heart of a seething,
+yelling crowd. It was all they could do to hold their ground. All at
+once the voice of the old beggar was raised in triumph,—
+
+“To the rescue!—Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!”
+
+There was a rush of turbaned men, a sharp struggle; the soldiers were
+torn away like trees by a winter torrent, and a hundred hands were
+eager to free the prisoners from their fetters. Files, knives, iron
+bars—every kind of tool and weapon was thrust forward to serve in
+the work of release. Rescuers and rescued were rocked to and fro in
+the battle raging around them. For once the Christians fought like
+wild beasts. Here a turbaned head was seen to fall, there a fez. Death
+shrieks mingled with the howls and shouts of the fighters. The uproar
+was frightful. For a while the issue of the fray seemed doubtful; but
+soon the Christians began to give way. The war-cry of Islâm gathered
+volume, until it seemed to roll along the sky in waves of sound.
+
+“To the house of Yuhanna!” cried the old beggar, dragging Saïd’s arm.
+“Dìn Muhammed! to the house of ’hanna, the pig who protects Jurji, the
+evildoer!… Y’Allah!… Death to the heathen!”
+
+Saïd, freed of his chains, forced his way earnestly through the
+crowd. Mustafa dogged him, screaming, laughing, and yelling like one
+possessed, keeping tight hold of his raiment so as not to lose him.
+A number of the faithful, fired by the hated name of Jurji, followed
+frantic as they.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+
+The house of Yuhanna was at some distance from the scene of riot.
+Its outer door stood open as on other days, and at the moment when
+Saïd burst into its pretty court, the girl Ferideh was seated on a
+cushion in the shade of the lemon-trees, her little brother in her lap.
+Suddenly, as if the stillness had been some brittle thing, it shivered
+to a great roar. There was a whirr and a flutter as the pigeons rose in
+a cloud from their researches on the pavement.
+
+Snatching up the child, she sprang to her feet. The menace of the wild
+inhuman faces appalled her. She fled towards the door of the house in
+terror at that inroad of madmen as she deemed them. But the old beggar,
+outrunning Saïd caught her by the arm and shook her brutally.
+
+“Say, girl, is the pig, thy father, in the house?”
+
+Ferideh winced for the tightness of his grasp. Outraged pride and a
+certain fearful wonder were blended in her answer.
+
+“Be not so rough, I pray!… Know that my father receives no man to-day,
+for he lies upon his bed, having fever. To-morrow he will perhaps be
+well, and, when well, he is accessible to all who seek him.”
+
+Mustafa laughed aloud, and pushed her so that she staggered backward a
+few paces.
+
+“He receives no man, sayest thou? By the tomb of the Prophet, he will
+receive us! Aha, O ’hanna, thou old rat, thou devourer of women, the
+avenger of blood overtakes thee at last!” He drew a long knife from his
+girdle and flashed it in the face of the girl.
+
+“Dìn Muhammed!” he cried. “Death to the infidels! Y’Allah!” and rushed
+into the house, hurling to the ground an old woman, almost blind, who
+had come to the door seeking querulously to know the meaning of the
+uproar. The crowd raised a loud shout and pressed after him.
+
+“O holy Miriam! O Yesua, Redeemer of the world, save him, save my
+father!” shrieked the maiden, falling on her knees, appealing to the
+sky above, whose bright peace mocked her anguish. The mob, bent on
+plunder, only laughed at her and praised her looks in passing. She
+grew white and red by turns, and her lips moved with difficulty as she
+prayed.
+
+The scared pigeons circled overhead, whirling great flakes of shadow
+over wall and pavement. Their cooing and the tinkle of the rill from
+the basin, heard despite the tumult, were heart-rending as memories.
+The still foliage of the lemon-trees cast a dark pool of shadow on the
+flags. The leaves of a creeper on the wall trembled a little.
+
+Saïd made no attempt to enter the house. He had no thirst for blood, no
+desire for gain. The screams and yells that arose within only confused
+his brain. He drew near to the kneeling girl, and she did not see him;
+but the child saw him and clung closer, burying its face in her bosom.
+He felt bashful—at a loss how to proceed. The court was deserted now;
+he thought he would have felt bolder in the presence of a crowd. The
+shouting and the noise, though friendly, numbed his wits. Forgetful
+for a moment of what was going on within the house, he began to make
+playful overtures to her baby brother.
+
+Through an open lattice a frightful shriek rent the air, deadening all
+other sounds. Another, and then another …. The girl leapt to her feet
+and listened, hugging the little one so tight that it cried fretfully.
+
+“O just Allah! they are killing my father!” she cried, and was rushing
+blindly towards the open door when Saïd caught her in his arms.
+
+“Unhand me, loose me, wild beast! Let me go to my father. Dost hear his
+cry? They kill him—an old man and sick, lying on his bed with none to
+help him.”
+
+She fought him frantically for a moment with teeth and feet, always
+holding the child fast to her breast. Then, as if all her strength were
+spent, she gave one bitter cry and was still.
+
+Holding her thus in his arms, Saïd felt uplifted beyond all care of
+life or death. What matter though a hundred old men were butchered if
+only he could manage to convey her away from that place to the upper
+chamber of Nûr, the harlot.
+
+“I suffer with thee, O my beloved!” he murmured soothingly. “But thy
+father was old; the days that remained to him were few in number. Also
+the people are mad this day against every Nazarene …. Listen, pretty
+one! If they find thee here they will surely slay thee, and this child
+also. Now I have so great love for thee that I would not let a hair of
+thy head be harmed. By Allah, I would slay the man who dared to touch
+thee with a finger! Come with me, O my soul, and I will lead thee to a
+place of safety.”
+
+She gave no answer nor any sign that she heard, but weighed heavily
+upon him. Looking down, he realised that she had swooned.
+
+The little boy, escaped from her embrace, was trotting eagerly towards
+the door of the house, through which rich carpets and other furniture
+of price were being flung out pell-mell. Saïd, who was fond of
+children, called to him that there were devils in there, and bade him
+fly to some neighbour’s house. Whereupon the little fellow toddled for
+the street in terror of his life.
+
+He had raised the fainting girl in his arms and was bearing her swiftly
+towards the outer gate, when Mustafa overtook him.
+
+“Aha, thou performest thy part? It is good—very good! Now listen!—I
+slew him. See, his blood is still warm on my left hand …. I was the
+first to plunge a knife into him; but, before I smote, I made him teach
+me the place where his treasure lies hid. At my bidding the multitude
+held their hands and stood back, knowing that I had private cause to
+hate him. He told me readily, in a whisper, thinking to save his life.
+But I slew him—with this knife I slew him. It is a good knife—a sharp
+knife. By Allah, I love this knife as my brother from this day forth.
+Ha, ha!”
+
+He sank his voice.
+
+“I go now to secure the money. There is a fountain—thou knowest
+it?—out yonder among the gardens, built on the pattern of a little
+mosque. In the pavement of its recess is a loose stone covering a hole
+where I am used to bury trifles. There I will conceal the wealth, and
+afterwards I will seek thee at the house of Nûr. Make haste, O my son!…
+Look, there is smoke: they set fire to the house!… The girl is pretty,
+and some of them might quarrel with thee for her sake. My peace go with
+thee!”
+
+Saïd strode out into the street with his burden and plunged into the
+network of dark passages and byways he had threaded so often for desire
+of her. He had not gone far before she began to give signs of a return
+to consciousness. He paused awhile in a secluded place to give her time
+to recover. Presently, to his great relief, she was able to stand on
+her feet, though still dazed and needing support for every step. She
+asked not whither they went, nor seemed to care. Indeed, she evinced
+no mind or will of her own, but moved wherever he led her, without
+reluctance as without eagerness. Her beauty, and the strange sight of a
+Muslim shepherding a Christian maid, caused the men they met to stare
+at them; so that Saïd, having no wish to court notice, bade her draw
+the fall of her white hood across her face, as the Drûz women used to
+do. She obeyed by a vague movement which told that her mind wandered.
+
+Nûr was cooking her noonday meal on the brazier when they entered. She
+welcomed Saïd with delight and cast a searching glance at his charge.
+Then, as he began to explain, she checked him with an impatient gesture
+and a nod of intelligence. She understood perfectly. He had been sent
+to sweep the streets of the infidels. Oh, the sin of it! She had heard
+the news from the son of Abu Khalìl when he brought some figs she
+had asked of his father. The whole city was ashamed. There had been
+a riot—not so?—and he had been rescued. And then Mustafa—the old
+madman!—had led the mob to the house of ’hanna, his enemy. And this
+then was Saïd’s beloved?
+
+She thrust her painted face close to that pale one and scanned the
+features narrowly. Then she passed her hands down the loose robe,
+feeling the limbs beneath.
+
+“She is sweet—a pearl!—a darling!” she exclaimed. “By Allah, thou
+art in luck’s way, O my soul. Art happy at last?… She neither sees nor
+hears us. Poor love! she is distraught with grief. It happens timely
+that the upper chamber is ready. I prepared it for the pleasure of a
+certain effendi, but his girl is a Nazarene and, in these troublous
+times, will not dare come hither. I will tend her there, the priceless
+gem! And thou must not come nigh her until the evening. Dost hear, O
+Saïd? She must sleep and take refreshment, and Nûr will tend her. Wait
+until the evening, I say; and then, when she is a little rested, I will
+present thee as her deliverer.”
+
+With that she put an arm round Ferideh’s waist and supported her very
+tenderly up the flight of steps to the guest-chamber. And Saïd sat on
+his heels, rolling cigarette after cigarette, drinking glass after
+glass of rose sherbet, too perturbed to eat though Nûr pressed him to
+share her repast. And Nûr, for her part, took a malicious joy in his
+distress, looking forth from time to time from the door of the upper
+room to wag her head at him and whisper, trumpeting with her hand,—
+
+“She is sweet, I tell thee!—white as milk!—a darling! I that am a
+woman cannot choose but kiss her!”
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+
+The first lilac gloom of night had fallen on the city ere the old
+beggar regained the vault of Nûr. A feeble glow from the brazier showed
+his wrinkled face ghastly pale and distorted with nervous twitchings.
+Madness burned in his eyes. His fingers clenched and unclenched
+spasmodically; his staff fell from them with a thud upon the earthern
+floor.
+
+“O Nûr, hear me! Where art thou?” he cried, peering about in the
+darkness. “I have slain him, I tell thee—I have slain the pig
+’hanna—the enemy of my house ….”
+
+“Hist!—Hold thy peace!” The door of the upper chamber was opened
+and shut. There was the rustle of a dress and clank of trinkets as
+the old woman came down the steps. “She is up there: his daughter,
+dost understand? Saïd has been with her, but against my advice he was
+violent and frightened her. She fought like a tigress and screamed so
+that I had to interfere. By my head, it is lucky that my house is a
+place apart, walled off and secluded, else all the quarter must have
+come together, seeking the cause of her outcry. For long I have been
+trying to soothe her; now at length she is silent and I am glad of it.
+As for Saïd, she has scratched and bitten him finely. A little while
+since he went out to gather tidings; he will return presently. Now sit
+down, O my uncle, and I will warm up thy supper, which was ready long
+ago.”
+
+But Mustafa gave no heed to what she said. Except that he lowered his
+voice somewhat it seemed that he heard nothing of it. Clutching her
+arm, he launched into a sort of chant of praise and thanksgiving.
+
+“Allah is bountiful!… I slew him, I tell thee! He lay on his bed
+shamming sickness; and I held the rage of the faithful in check till he
+had whispered me the secret of his treasure. He thought to preserve his
+life thereby, deeming we were come to rob him. But I spoke the word, I
+called on the name of Allah! I shouted in his ear the name of the girl,
+my sister, whom he ruined. A hundred knives struck down at him as he
+lay; but mine was foremost and it cut his life …. Praise to Allah!
+
+“Ha, ha! He was fat and lay on a soft bed, whereas I am lean and used
+to sleep on the earth. Yet I slew him!… See the stains on my left
+hand—O hand of honour, O blessed hand!… The fat who dwell in palaces
+must reckon with the lean beggar at their gates. I would, O Nûr, thou
+hadst seen him in the death-throe. He looked so funny that all men
+laughed. Ha, ha, ha!… Thanks be to Allah! The reproach is taken away
+from my father’s house. Allah is gracious!”
+
+“Thou art overwrought, O father of Mansûr,” she said soothingly. “Sit
+down and rest. See, thy supper is ready!… By Allah, thou art very old
+for this work, and I fear lest it prove harmful to thy health. Sit
+down, dost hear me? After a little while Saïd will return and we shall
+learn what news there is. In the meantime I will make some coffee for
+thee.”
+
+The old beggar allowed himself to be persuaded. He sank down
+cross-legged by the threshold of the inner room, while she, having made
+fast the door, shook an earthen lamp to be sure it had oil enough, lit
+and set it in a hollow nook of the wall opposite to him. By its light
+she observed him furtively as she busied herself about the brazier,
+and she shook her head bodingly from time to time. A torn strip of
+his filthy turban dangled over one ear. His scanty robe, all ragged,
+displayed the thick growth of grizzled hair upon his chest. His bare
+limbs were shrivelled and sinewy, of the colour of a sun-dried apricot,
+the legs dusty almost to the knee. His withered hand was extended as
+when he sat by the wayside for alms.
+
+It was as if mere change of posture had been a charm to quench his
+excitement. The life was gone from his limbs, the fire from his eyes.
+He was become bowed and very feeble—an old, old man whose hours
+are numbered. His mouth hung open slavering. The under lip moved
+perpetually us he gurgled certain phrases, always the same, seeming
+catchwords to something he would fain recall.
+
+“Allah is bountiful …. I slew him …. Dìn Muhammed …. O blessed left
+hand …. Allah is bountiful!…”
+
+Nûr shook him with rough kindness as she set a smoking bowl of chopped
+meat and rice at his knees with the charge to wake up and eat. She
+held the dish under his nostrils that the savoury steam might beget a
+craving. She grew poetical in praise of its contents; but all in vain.
+
+Mechanically he thrust a trembling hand into the mess and raised a
+portion to his mouth; but he let the rice slip through his fingers
+without so much as licking them.
+
+Nûr was greatly concerned. He must be on the brink of death, she told
+herself, thus to neglect good victuals, he who was always wont to come
+in ravenous from a day’s begging. She made shift to feed him with her
+own hands and rejoiced to find that he swallowed the morsels placed in
+his mouth.
+
+While she was thus occupied the door was tried from without. A knocking
+ensued, and the voice of Saïd calling to her to open. She left her
+charge and flew to shoot back the bolt.
+
+“Where is Mustafa?… Bid him come away with all speed! It is said that
+search is made for us for our part in the destruction of Yuhanna’s
+house. Ah, there he is! Rise, O my father, and come with me. The
+carnage of this day is nothing compared with what to-morrow’s sun will
+see. Know that a great multitude of Christians, fugitives from the
+Mountain, have entered the city seeking refuge. And many Drûz, both
+from the Mountain and the Hauran, have pursued them hither. I met a
+party of them in this minute as I came through the streets. They are
+strong men of war and armed like soldiers. They are eager as ourselves
+against the pagans …. Arise, O Mustafa, and come away! It is known that
+we frequent this place, and it were a shame to be taken a prisoner on
+the eve of so great a festival …. Arise, I say! What ails thee? Art
+ill? Speak! What is this, O Nûr?”
+
+The woman clung to his arm.
+
+“Merciful Allah! I fear he is at the point to die. At his first coming
+he was as one possessed, shouting and screaming and waving his hands.
+It was very hard for me to quiet him. Now he is like one in a swoon; he
+sees me not nor hears me, and is weaker than a baby.”
+
+“I warrant he is only tired. If Allah will I shall find means to rouse
+him. He is as my father, and this place is dangerous for him.”
+
+He strode to the place where Mustafa sat cross-legged, mumbling
+fragments of sentences, and staring at the basin of rice and meat. He
+grasped the old man’s shoulder and bent over him, raising his voice as
+if to overtake the wandering mind and call it back.
+
+“Fie upon thee, O my father!” he cried, “thou who hast this day slain
+the enemy with thy own hand, and hast done battle so bravely for the
+Faith, to sicken and faint like a vaporous girl. Allah witness I am
+ashamed for thee! Awake, O Mustafa! This place is not safe for us. The
+soldiers—Allah blast them!—may be seeking us even now. If we stay
+here we shall be taken and put in prison, and must forego all the glory
+of to-morrow’s slaughter. The wrath of Islâm burns like a great fire to
+consume the infidels. From the hour of sunrise the slaying will begin.
+Men will look for thee, O my father, in the front of the battle. They
+will marvel greatly and say one to another, ‘Where now is that old lion
+which devoured Yuhanna, the pig?’ They will look for thee to lead them
+on; it were a sin to disappoint them. Up, O Mustafa! The danger grows
+with every minute. Awake!—y’Allah!—for the faith of Muhammed!”
+
+The last words were of magic virtue. The dying embers of the old man’s
+wit leapt up at them in lurid flame. With a cry he sprang to his feet,
+staring wild-eyed at Saïd.
+
+“Dìn Muhammed!—I slew him! O glorious left hand! Allah is bountiful!
+Yes, I hear thee, my son, and I understand. I was asleep, not so? I was
+weary and so I fell asleep, and methought the angel of death was with
+me. But it was a dream surely. I will go with thee, O my eyes, whither
+thou wilt, so that there be men to kill—fat men like him, who lie
+on beds of down—Ha, ha!—while I who slew him am used to lie on the
+hard-trodden ground. I must be strong, sayest thou? Now, by my beard,
+that is a foolish word; for who is stronger than Mustafa? ’Hanna was
+weaker for I slew him easily, witness Allah and the blood-stains on my
+left hand. O glorious hand! But it is true what thou sayest, that a
+man’s strength must be nourished with meat. Of course, I will eat; and
+to-morrow I will do great slaughter—thou and I together, O my soul. O
+blessed left hand! Allah is bountiful!”
+
+He swallowed the food hastily by great mouthfuls, with no signs of
+relish. When the bowl was empty Nûr brought him a cup of hot coffee,
+which he gulped down in like manner. He grew reasonable, taking counsel
+with Saïd as to the best place for them to lie till morning. The old
+woman, seeing him fairly in the way of health, wished them both a
+happy night, and returned to the upper chamber to look after the girl
+Ferideh, whose moans and lamentations, though unheeded in the greater
+anxiety attending the beggar’s plight, had long been audible.
+
+“Take care that she do herself no mischief: she is a very tigress!”
+Saïd called after her as he and his adopted father stepped out into
+the night. They went stealthily, by narrow ways the moonbeams seldom
+fathomed, to a small tavern kept by a Muslim, which was towards the
+Christian quarter. Others of the insurgents had likewise chosen that
+place for their night’s shelter. There were blithe greetings. A
+discussion was going on, in which Mustafa, having no care to rest,
+joined eagerly. But Saïd, being very drowsy, yawned cavernously at all
+that was said. He soon stretched his length on the floor and fell fast
+asleep.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+
+“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!” … “Allah! Allah!” … “Death to the
+unbelievers!” … “Perish the Nazarenes!”
+
+Saïd awoke to the consciousness of a frightful uproar streaming in
+with a sunbeam through the open door. The whole city was filled with
+it—wrapt in it as in a mist. Frenzied shouts for Allah and the
+Prophet, devilish yells and cries of exultation mingled with the run of
+a great multitude in the street without, the distant beat of a drum and
+a sound of desultory firing.
+
+The tavern, in deep shadow, was empty save for the old beggar, who
+stood over him brandishing a curved knife like a sickle in his sound
+hand, while with the withered he pointed to the piece of an iron bar
+which lay on the ground close to Saïd. A fierce devil looked out at his
+eyes.
+
+“Arise, O sluggard!” he cried with a mad laugh. “Is this a time to
+sleep and be lazy? Come, let us out! There will be blood!—blood—blood
+of unbelievers to flush the streets like water! Aha, the dogs of the
+city shall drink rare wine to-night!”
+
+Saïd’s eyes caught fire from the speaker’s. Grasping the iron, he
+sprang to his feet. “Ready!” he cried; and with a bound like a wild
+beast’s they cleared the threshold together.
+
+A live stream filled the alley—a torrent of men and boys; all with the
+murder-light in their eyes, all flourishing weapons, all racing in one
+direction. The current caught them and swept them along.
+
+“In case we be sundered in the tumult,” breathed Mustafa, “meet me in
+the place thou knowest—in the secret place of our treasure among the
+gardens—at the hour of sunset. Forget not!”
+
+Saïd turned his head to answer; but the old man was torn away from him
+in a sudden eddy of the human tide to avoid the frantic kicking of a
+donkey which held the middle of the causeway. He found himself roughly
+shouldered between two Drûz of giant build, clad in the black-and-white
+cloak and white linen turban of their tribe. Each had a long-barrelled
+gun slung across his back and a knife in his hand. They ran steadily,
+with teeth clenched and eyes full of a grim purpose, hustling Saïd
+along with them unawares.
+
+“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!” … The mountaineers, though unbelievers,
+joined lustily in the cry of El Islâm. They had come fifty miles
+in pursuit of their quarry and now they had run him to earth. “Dìn
+’hammed!” a child’s voice piped manfully; and Saïd beheld a little boy
+in a man’s arms, brandishing a toy knife as he was borne along, crowing
+for joy of the merry race and the shouting. There was a stoppage in
+front; but those behind still continued to push on, regardless of the
+protests of such as were tall enough to see the nature of the obstacle.
+
+The giant on Saïd’s right proclaimed that certain persons of authority
+were sorting the crowd, sending some this way, others that, to join
+bands already at work. He licked his lips as he added that he himself
+had slain fifty Maronites between the first hour and the fourth, at
+the taking of Zahleh. By Allah, it was the business to whet a man’s
+appetite. He remembered to have eaten a whole sheep that day—to have
+rent it limb from limb and devoured it yet warm and uncooked, he was
+so hungry. But his remarks were lost for the most part in the general
+uproar.
+
+“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!…” Saïd was past the obstacle, speeding over
+the rough pavement of a lane in shadow. The sky, a narrow streamer
+of living blue, seemed to flutter and wave overhead as he ran with
+throbbing brow and panting chest. With the two Drûz and a hundred
+others he was told off to join a part of the mob who were gone to raze
+the house of the Muscovite Consul, whose ill-timed meddling had fired
+the people. The two Drûz lost their eagerness.
+
+“What have we to do with this Frank?” Saïd heard one say to the other.
+“Let us turn—what sayest thou? Our enemies are yonder!”
+
+“True,” breathed the other; and they slackened so as to drop behind.
+
+The house of the Consul was already in flames when Saïd’s reinforcement
+came up. Little pillars and wreaths of brown smoke curled upward from
+it, to condense in a low cloud like a frown upon the tranquil sky. A
+seething, roaring throng, close-packed from wall to wall, choked every
+approach. By mounting on a high stone beside a doorway Saïd contrived
+to see what was doing.
+
+Furniture and other goods, which the greed of the insurgents had
+dragged from the burning house, were being tossed back into the blaze
+by order of an aged man invested with some sort of authority. This
+person seemed some prophet or dervìsh—a holy man in any case, for he
+was naked save for a loose shirt of sack-cloth, and his legs and arms
+were almost black through long exposure. He capered about in a solemn
+measure, screaming, praising Allah, and exhorting the faithful to fresh
+exertions.
+
+There was a movement on the outskirts of the crowd. Where was the good
+in standing idle, looking on at the prowess of others, when there was
+work enough for every man that day?
+
+“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!” … Even to Saïd’s maddened brain it occurred
+that there was some rough order in the mob. A band of butchers were
+there in their slaughter-house garb, with long knives dripping blood
+not of beasts. Men forced their way into homes, he among them,
+upsetting costly furniture, trampling rich carpets in their zeal to
+seize on the inmates. These they spat upon, spurned, insulted and
+dragged out into the street, where the aforesaid butchers waited to
+despatch them.
+
+Girls were embraced brutally and borne shrieking away in the arms
+of men whose clothing was bespattered with the blood of a father
+or mother. Crones strained and knotted their wizened throats in
+supplication for the spark of life that yet warmed them. Dwellings
+were looted, then set on fire. Saïd, in his search of the house of a
+rich merchant, saw a foot peeping out from a heap of bedding. He laid
+hold of it and, pulling with a will, elicited an old, white-bearded
+man whose face was grey with terror. He shrieked to Miriam, Mother of
+God, to help him; but Saïd had him fast by the throat, thin and grisly
+as a hen’s, and soon pitched him headlong down a short flight of stone
+steps. He toppled senseless at the feet of one of the butchers, who,
+being idle for the moment, knifed him at once.
+
+The thought of Ferideh, awaiting his further pleasure in the safe
+keeping of old Nûr, filled the fisherman with a kind of drunken joy.
+She had bitten his arm last night and the wound pained him yet. What
+matter! There would be plenty of leisure to punish and tame her
+by-and-by. She would learn to worship him in the beautiful house he
+would build for her out of her father’s hoard. His brain whirled.
+He had the strength of two men. He saw all things in the redness of
+eyelids closed against the sun; felt and cared for nothing save the
+lust of blood and the joy of killing …. “Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!”
+
+A sound of firing came out of the distance—a single volley followed by
+faint cries. One or two strained ears to listen; but the hoarse shouts
+of the slayers and piercing shrieks of their victims made it hard to
+ascertain noises more remote. Zeal continued unabated. Men, women and
+children were dragged out of the shadowy doorways to be hacked to death
+on the causeway beneath the ribbon of peaceful blue sky which the smoke
+of burning houses began to veil in part. The mob jeered and reviled
+their last agonies. Some were found to spit in the faces of the newly
+slain. And the name of Allah was in every man’s mouth.
+
+Of a sudden a tremor ran through the multitude. The uproar dwindled to
+a murmur, above which terrified cries were heard, growing louder and
+nearer.
+
+“The soldiers!”—“The soldiers have scattered us!”—“Allah destroy
+them!”—“They have killed Ahmed, my brother!”—“I am wounded even to
+death!”
+
+The broken remnant of some other band poured headlong from the arched
+entry of a by-street and made haste to mingle and lose themselves in
+the stagnant crowd which choked their way. They came running, beards on
+shoulders, faces blanched with fright, and slipped in among the throng
+as a lizard slips under a stone for safety.
+
+The butchers stayed their hands and wiped their knives on the skirts
+of their clothing. The feeders poured out of doorways to hear the
+news. Saïd struck a squealing Nazarene on the head with his iron bar
+and looked out from the lattice of the upper storey where he found
+himself. He glanced down upon the press of dark fezes and light turbans
+in fierce sunlight and plum-coloured shadow. The sea of heads rolled
+purposeless like beads unstrung from a chaplet. All at once a yell of
+rage uprose.
+
+“The soldiers!—Allah cut their lives!—The soldiers!—let us slay
+them!—Let us fly!—Let us stone them to death who favour the
+infidels!” At the street end, where there was a great pool of sunlight,
+Saïd caught the glint of gun-barrels and recognised the uniform of
+the irregular troops. He saw a sword flash as an officer of high
+rank flourished it; and through all the cursing of the mob he heard
+a word of command, short and gruff like the grunt of a pig. A howl
+of execration rent the air. The front rank of the troops were taking
+deliberate aim at the rioters.
+
+Saïd beheld the surging sea of heads with the unconcerned pity of an
+angel or a sage. Packed close as they were down there, every shot
+must tell. He gave warm praise to Allah Most High, who had placed His
+servant in that upper chamber, whence he could observe all that passed
+without peril.
+
+Then he saw a strange sight. The rabble had shrunk back before the
+muzzles of the rifles covering them. Across the space of pavement thus
+deserted rushed the wild figure he had observed before the Consul’s
+house. The holy one ran up to the officer and confronted him with
+gestures of command and entreaty.
+
+“Shall Muslim war with Muslim?” A shrill voice rang clear on the hush
+which ensued. “Will you then separate yourselves from the cause of
+Allah and His Apostles to side with pagans and idolaters? Will you
+shoot down the servants of the Highest like dogs? I heard a voice in
+the night saying, Go to the city, Es-Shâm, and tell the dwellers there:
+The word of Allah to such as are faithful. Slay me the unbelievers
+which aspire to sit in high places! Slay the whole race of them, the
+child with the strong man, the woman giving suck with the aged one
+whose eyes are dim! Let not a soul of them remain alive, for the
+welfare of Islâm is in it!—Will you then anger the Praiseworthy? Will
+you then ….”
+
+“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!”
+
+The words of the saint were drowned in a shout which thrilled Saïd to
+the marrow and made tears start in his eyes. The officer took a written
+paper embodying his orders and tore it to little pieces. The soldiers
+flung down their rifles with a great noise. With frantic exclamations
+the crowd surged towards them, enveloped them, embraced them and made
+them one with it. The Colonel waved his sword on high, shouting for
+Allah and the Prophet. It was who should kiss his hand, his scabbard,
+his clothing—anything that was his.
+
+“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!…” The mob, thus reinforced, set to work
+once more. “To the French convent!” someone shouted. “Let the nuns
+be ravished and then slain!” The cry was taken up on all hands with
+laughter and coarse jibes. “The nuns! The nuns!” “Aha, the nuns are
+sweet!” “They have kept their flower for us, the darlings!” “Let us see
+how the nuns are fashioned!”
+
+There was a breathless rush, of sheep following blindly the track of an
+unseen leader. Saïd was more than once crushed against a wall of the
+narrow ways they traversed; but he was stalwart and held his own. Then
+there was a standstill. Those in front hammered at a strong door, while
+those behind stood on tiptoe and craned their necks to see what was
+doing.
+
+All at once there was a backward movement. Another panic got hold of
+the crowd. A cry, “The soldiers!” was again raised; but was received
+with jeers by such of the mob as were of that calling. A small troop of
+armed men rode up to the door of the nunnery. They were seen plainly of
+all, towering as they did on horseback above the seething mass on foot.
+Most of them rode their chargers at the foremost, who drew back in
+alarm; while a few, among whom was the leader, dismounted and entered
+the convent, the door of which was promptly opened to them.
+
+A mighty roar went up from the multitude.
+
+“It is Abdul Cader!”—“May Allah preserve his Grace!”—“He goes to
+take vengeance upon his enemies!”—“It was the French who wronged and
+imprisoned him, though he fought them brave as a lion!”—“He is come to
+claim the French nuns for his harìm!”—“Allah is just!”—“May all the
+Franks perish, and their women be dishonoured!”—“Long live the might
+of Islâm!”—“May Allah preserve Abdul Cader, the glory of the Faith!”
+
+But applause was turned to oaths and howls of rage when the hero and
+his officers reappeared, escorting with respect a train of black-robed
+nuns, each with the obnoxious cross shining on her bosom. The horsemen
+closed around them as a body-guard; the leaders sprang to their
+saddles. Then the fury of the crowd broke all bounds. The coolness of
+the rescuers as they rode away had a point of contempt which stung the
+rout to madness.
+
+“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!” … “Death to the enemies of Allah!” … “Who
+dares protect those whose lives are forfeit to Islâm!” … “Perish
+Abdul Cader!” … “Death to the traitors of Eljizar.” Raging like a
+winter-torrent, the crowd surged forward in pursuit. The horsemen were
+constrained to a foot’s pace, having regard to the women in their
+midst. The mob was close upon them. Stones and other missiles began to
+whizz through the air. Of a sudden the whole mass swayed back, every
+man jostling his neighbour.
+
+Abdul Cader had turned his horse about and was sitting motionless,
+his eyes ranging sternly over the sea of turbaned heads and swarthy,
+malignant faces. A last stone, flung at random from the heart of the
+throng, struck his arm and made him wince. He raised a hand to his
+tarbûsh, commanding silence. An awe-stricken hush spread like a breath
+over the crowd. This man was the established idol of the populace. He
+was the greatest living hero of Islâm, and at heart they gloried in his
+intrepidity.
+
+“What is this, O my friends?” His voice rang out clear and measured.
+“Will you provoke the wrath of Allah against this city? Will you anger
+Him so that He turn away His face from us for ever? It has been told
+you how I have fought for Islâm—ay, and borne imprisonment and exile
+for our holy Faith. But I tell you I would rather be the meanest
+Christian slain this day in the sight of Allah than one of you whose
+hands are red with his blood. Shame on you, Muslimûn!—Shame on you, I
+say! Would to Allah I had gone to my grave ere ever this day dawned for
+the Faith!”
+
+He gazed for a moment, silent on the silent crowd; then, turning, set
+spurs to his horse and cantered away. But the foremost, among whom was
+Saïd, saw that his eyes glistened.
+
+“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!” It was the holy man who raised the shout
+once more, waving his gnarled brown arms above the crowd. “Who dares
+withstand the justice of Allah? Slay him also, who rescues the
+condemned of God! Onward! Dìn! Dìn!”
+
+But the words of Abdul Cader had wrought a change in the temper of the
+multitude. Some there were who lagged behind. Saïd’s thirst for blood
+was somewhat slaked by this. There was time, he bethought him, to visit
+Ferideh and snatch a kiss from her before keeping his appointment with
+Mustafa. He slipped aside into an archway which gave access to a shady
+passage barely wide enough for two to walk abreast, and made his way
+by forsaken paths to the prison of his desire. And ever as he went the
+roar of the tumult was in his ears, now loud and near, now soft and
+melting in the distance, like the thunder of surf upon a rock-bound
+coast:
+
+“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!”
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+
+For once Nûr was cross with Saïd. No sooner did she understand the
+reason of his coming than she lifted up her voice and chid him roundly.
+Upon his persisting, she threw herself in his way and forbade him to
+advance another step. The girl was ill enough already without the
+aggravation of his presence. If he so much as set foot in that upper
+room, she (Nûr) would cease to befriend him and would let the girl go
+free.
+
+Cowed by her vehemence, Saïd grumbled that he had no instant wish to
+harm the maid; but was come just to see how she did; with much more,
+scarcely audible, about his own property, and kissing, and no sin.
+Whereupon the old woman became herself again, called him the light
+of her eyes, and detecting some tell-tale stains upon his raiment
+soaked a rag in a vessel of water and made haste to sponge it. The
+strong perfume of her unguents kept him quiet and submissive while she
+purified him. His eyes languished and his lips parted as he inhaled it.
+
+Bending close to him over the task,—
+
+“It is a kindness I do thee, O my soul!” she said. “Suppose soldiers or
+other slaves of authority met thee with the marks of blood on thy robe,
+by thy beard, I think it would fare ill with thee. As for that girl
+thou lovest, she has been all day like a madwoman. She is deaf to all
+my comfortable words, and cries ever to Allah that He should take her
+life. She boasts that she will beat herself to death against a stone
+of the wall sooner than endure thy embrace; that is why I stayed thee.
+To-day is but the morrow of her disaster. Leave me alone to deal with
+her, and, after a few days, I warrant thou shalt find her tractable.
+When she is tame enough I shall send thee word. With thy share of the
+treasure of which Mustafa speaks, thou mayst well afford to hire a fine
+house for her. With a fine house and a gift in thy hand what girl could
+gainsay thee? For thou art handsome, my dear, straight as a palm-tree,
+strong as a lion. Does the work of slaughter flag that thou comest
+hither thus early?”
+
+Saïd told her something of the day’s doings, while she, vowing that he
+must be famished, brought some bread and dried raisins from the inner
+room. He was in truth pretty hungry, though the fact had escaped his
+mind. His jaws worked as a busy mill to which grist came unfailingly
+by great handfuls. Nûr wished him two healths, and, squatting on her
+heels, kept her painted eyes fixed on him in a kind of dotage.
+
+“I am sorry thou didst lose sight of Mustafa,” she said at length,
+speaking chiefly to herself. “He was ill yesterday in the evening—very
+ill, so that I deemed him at the gate of death. Allah restore him to us
+in safety and good health!”
+
+Saïd’s utterance was somewhat choked, his mouth being crammed with
+leathery bread.
+
+“Hadst thou been with us in the tumult, O my eyes, thou wouldst not
+marvel that we were forced asunder,” he mumbled. “No man thought of his
+neighbour, but each ran alone for himself, taking care not to stumble
+lest the multitude behind should tread out his life. Praise be to Allah
+that He has granted me to see this day! Not a street of that quarter
+but has dark pools of blood on its pavement—blood of the heathen, of
+the unbelievers, which to shed is a pious deed. At the hour of sunset
+I am bound to meet Mustafa in a place appointed among the gardens. O
+happy day!”
+
+“In sh’Allah, thou wilt find him in the extremity of good health!”
+exclaimed Nûr, rising to prepare herself a narghileh. “As for the
+maiden, the daughter of Yuhanna, I have said that I will tame her
+for thee. Seek not to approach her until I send thee word. Prepare a
+fine house for her and bring a gift in thy hand. Force is one way to
+succeed, but there is a better, I do assure thee.”
+
+The sun’s rays were red upon the upper roofs when Saïd left the
+cellar. He saw no man in the streets save such as were very old and
+feeble. Veiled women and girls, some with babies in their arms, stood
+chattering together in doorways or at the cross-roads. They called to
+him for news.
+
+In passing the tavern of Abu Khalìl, he beheld the fat host seated on
+a stool in the doorway, wide awake, his face expressive of the deepest
+disgust. He appeared to be afflicted with an itch in the calf of his
+leg, for he was scratching the place slowly and woefully with a shard.
+
+“Peace on thee, O Abu Khalìl!” cried the fisherman as he sped by.
+
+“Upon thee be the peace, and the mercy of Allah and His blessings!”
+retorted the taverner, with a dismal groan. “But say, why dost thou
+hasten? Stay a little and tell me, hast thou heard aught of my son?—of
+Camr-ud-dìn? The villain escaped about the second hour. Doubtless, he
+is with the slayers—curse his religion! and behold there is none left
+to serve in the house, his mother being sick this day. Wait a minute, I
+say—may thy house be destroyed!”
+
+But Saïd only cried “Allah comfort thee!” over his shoulder as he
+hurried on. The thought of Mustafa and the treasure lent wings to his
+feet. Besides, it seemed a small matter that Abu Khalìl should lack
+his son’s help that day, seeing it was a dull time of business, all
+likely customers keeping festival elsewhere. A surge-like roar was ever
+in his ears, loud or distant according to the trend of the streets he
+traversed.
+
+Turning a sharp corner, he collided with a man in as great a hurry as
+himself. The shock was very great. Saïd rubbed himself ruefully, and so
+did the stranger. They were about to curse each other and pursue their
+several ways when recognition turned their gall to honey. The fisherman
+blessed Selìm, and Selìm blessed the fisherman. They embraced, and
+Saïd, having a view to his own profit, inquired with what eye his
+Excellency, the Wâly, deigned to regard the disturbance.
+
+“Alas!” cried the other, lifting hands and eyes towards as much of
+the purpled heaven as was visible between the roof-lines, “my lord is
+distraught with grief. The Franks ply him ever with angry demands that
+he take instant measures to put down the tumult. Allah knows that he
+has done all that was in his power to do. The garrison was divided in
+two companies, and sent forth with orders to fire on the rebels without
+mercy. One division with its officers deserted to the people; the
+other, after firing one volley and wreaking great havoc, was withdrawn
+lest they too should make common cause with the insurgents. The
+Council was summoned, and Ahmed Basha signed with his own hand a paper
+declaring that the Government can do nothing. He sent an express for
+Abdul Cader, but was refused because Abdul Cader and all his followers
+were busy rescuing great numbers of the Nazarenes and conveying them by
+families to the castle. He invited the Basha to bring but fifty armed
+men and ride with him, saying that with so small a reinforcement as
+that he would undertake to quell the riot in a few hours.
+
+“It was Selìm who was charged with the message, and I would to Allah
+it had been some other. For my lord began to weep and wring his hands,
+being, as I guess, afraid for his life to ride forth, yet ashamed to
+play the coward in the sight of an old lion like Abdul Cader. Before
+I left his presence he took a leaf of paper and began to draw upon it
+what seemed a plan of the city, crying, ‘Thus and thus it should have
+been. So and so I should have acted.’ It was as though the squeak of
+the reed on the leaf brought comfort to him. Poor great man! I tell
+thee, my heart was sick for pity of him. All in the palace agree
+that the Franks will have him slain for this hesitation which is his
+infirmity.
+
+“I go now to buy a little food for those who have taken refuge in the
+palace-yard. There is a great crowd, and who can tell how long the
+slaughter will last? Many must die of hunger, and that is not pleasant
+to see in the court of the house where one dwells. To slay a foe in
+anger, and his woman, and his sons and daughters, is natural for all
+the Franks say. It is natural that a man should seek to destroy his
+enemy once for all, and wash the land clean of his name. Vengeance of
+blood, from what they say, is a thing unknown among the Franks. The
+price of blood has no claim among their customs. Were it otherwise,
+they would better understand our manner of warfare. But what do I,
+loitering by the way? In thy grace, O my brother! Allah guard thee till
+we meet again!”
+
+When Saïd at length passed out at the town-gate, twilight was rising
+from the ground. Shadows, which were half a light, floated among the
+tree trunks. He had yet a good way to go, and the sun was set; he
+hurried on, therefore, along a fair road almost roofed with leafage and
+bordered by hedges which smelt sweet. In a place where black trees of
+mournful seeming grew sparsely amid a wilderness of white stones, he
+beheld veiled figures flitting darkly among the tombs and knew them for
+women caring for their dead.
+
+The zeal of the faithful must have waned with the sun, for he overtook
+and passed several groups of men, dusty and disordered; and, as he
+crossed a bridge, the twang of an aûd and wailing chant of a singer
+reached him from some tavern down the stream. Nevertheless, he still
+heard the roar of the tumult through a tremulous veil, as it were, of
+nearer sounds—the droning plaint of the singer, the bark of a dog,
+chirping of birds, croaking of frogs, the murmur of the stream and the
+rustle of leaves. It was the same roar that he had heard on awaking,
+only fainter and with a note of satiety. He wondered what the drum was
+that had been beating all day, and was beating yet somewhere in the
+city. And even as he listened and wondered, the cry of the muezzin rose
+shrill above the din, followed by another—by a host of others, until
+all the plain was filled with their message. The turmoil sank and died
+away. The drum was no more heard. The unbelievers enjoyed a respite
+while the faithful said their prayers.
+
+Selecting a little patch of grass by the wayside, beneath a great
+mulberry-tree, Saïd fell on his face and gave praise and thanks to
+Allah. It pleased him to think on how few days of his life he had
+omitted to pray at each appointed hour. He asked Allah to forgive him
+the omissions, not to let them weigh against his virtues to destroy
+him. Then, shrugging his shoulders resignedly, he rose, inhaled a
+perfumed breath of the night, and murmured, “Allah is just!”
+
+At the point where a garden-track branched from the main road, and
+blunting the angle, stood a building one would have taken for a large
+wely or saint’s tomb, flanked and dwarfed by twin cypress-trees.
+A pious foundation from of old, it served the double purpose of a
+fountain and a place of rest for wayfarers. It consisted of a centre
+arch, admitting to the spout and trough, and of a recess on either
+hand; and was surmounted by three domes in proportion to these
+divisions, that in the middle being much higher than the other two,
+which peeped over the square roof as a skull-cap shows above a turban.
+
+The fountain whitened in the half light amid the gloom of the
+surrounding foliage. The two cypress-trees stood up blackly, their
+tufts cutting the green sky, Saïd’s eagerness grew apace. He walked
+faster and faster, and was on the point of girding up his loins to run
+when a loud voice turned him to stone. It was the voice of Mustafa, but
+it had a new intonation which made his flesh creep. It came from within
+the building, very harsh upon the evening murmur and the twilight,
+which, between them, were soft as velvet.
+
+“Allah will give to you!” There was something fierce and exultant in
+the cry, which assorted gruesomely with that prayer for alms. “Allah
+will give to you!… I slew him, I tell you …. See, I have a withered
+hand. O hand of my honour—O blessed hand!… O Lord!… Take pity, O my
+masters or I die …. Allah witness, I slew him. Aha, he was fat and lay
+on a bed of down, whereas I …. O Lord!… Allah will give to you!… I am
+poor and lean while you are fat and dwell in palaces. See the stains
+on my hand …. O hand of my love—O happy left hand! Take pity, hear
+you?—or I will slay all the race of you, fat men that lie on soft
+cushions …. Aha, you look very funny, all you fat ones with your mouths
+open, lying on green couches and your eyes turned over in your heads.
+It is a merry sight …. O Lord!… Have compassion or I die. Merciful
+Allah, is there none to pity me?… Behold my father’s house is washed
+clean of the reproach …. Blood!… I see blood!—blood everywhere—blood
+of pigs—blood of unbelievers. Lo! the steam of it rises up to heaven,
+and it is counted to me for righteousness. Allah rejoices! The Prophet
+smiles at God’s right hand!… O Lord!… Death to the unbelievers! Perish
+the Christians! Dìn! Dìn!…”
+
+Daunted by the hideous outcry and the gathering night, Saïd stood
+still, shuddering, until the voice died away upon a frightful shriek.
+Then he ran forward.
+
+“May his house be destroyed,” he breathed ruefully between his clenched
+teeth. “It is sure he is possessed with a devil. Why else should he
+cry aloud to summon all men to the secret place of our wealth!” The
+recess on either side of the fountain was very dark. Saïd stood by the
+trough of stone and whispered his friend’s name. He spoke it aloud,
+then shouted it, then made the vault ring with it on a despairing yell
+of terror. Dead silence and a darkness which the tinkle of a slender
+thread of water made hollow as a bell; more than all, the echo of his
+own voice almost killed him with fright. He was haunted, the sport
+of malicious fiends. They were mocking him somewhere in the gloom,
+pointing at him and laughing noiselessly. He was minded to run, but his
+feet were become of one piece with the uneven pavement. It was that
+hopeless, blind terror which knows no beyond—the despair of a child
+alone in the dark. He shut his eyes; but fear lined their lids with
+eyes and wheels of flame, which rolled and dilated, scathing his very
+soul. Sure that dreadful shapes were drawing near him, he opened them
+from excess of fear; and, seeing nothing, was ten times more frightened
+than before. He breathed hard.
+
+However, as long seconds passed and nothing happened, little by little
+the panic left him, and his wits, faint and trembling, returned to
+him. The arch by which he had entered was full of dark forms of
+trees quivering upon a starry sky. He heard the howl and yelp of a
+jackal; no doubt there were vineyards near with green clusters of
+half-formed grapes such as foxes love. The well-known sound and the
+everyday thoughts it engendered calmed him somewhat. A jangle of bells
+approaching along the road wholly reassured him. For all that, it was
+with heart in mouth that he stepped into the recess whence the cry of
+Mustafa had seemed to proceed.
+
+Straining his ears to retain the friendly sound of the camel-bells, he
+passed a hand along the wall. All at once he stumbled on something. He
+stooped down to feel what it might be.
+
+“O Mustafa!” he whispered fiercely, “what is this?… Arise! Awake! Say,
+where is our treasure? Let us take each his share and return with speed
+to the city. Come, awake, I say! Make haste!”
+
+No answer. The mass was inert as he shook it; an arm flopped and that
+was all. He had nothing wherewith to get a light, and it was very dark.
+Yet he felt brave and master of himself, for the clangour of bells was
+drawing near and he could hear the voice of a camel-driver chanting in
+praise of love.
+
+He found the old man’s head and placed his hand over his mouth. There
+was no warmth of a breath; the lips were cold and sticky. Then Saïd
+knew for certain that he was handling a dead body.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+
+Saïd shuddered, not so much for the knowledge of his own uncleanness,
+nor for the fear of death, as for the loneness of this end by the
+roadside and for horror of the wild cry he had heard. Since last the
+sun rose he had been present at the killing of many men and women. But
+they all had perished in the open street in the sunlight, amid the
+shouting of a great multitude, with prayers and curses on their lips;
+whereas Mustafa had met death in the dark, in a lonely place with none
+to witness.
+
+He thought of the treasure, that it was now all his own; and sorrow,
+like a spring of sweet water, welled up in his heart for the loss of
+his more than father. But the next minute he wished Mustafa no good for
+dying ere he had made him privy to the hiding-place. By Allah, a loose
+stone in the pavement was not so easy to find in the darkness, without
+lamp or direction, and with a corpse for company.
+
+The clash of bells grew very near indeed. The chant ceased, and the
+singer shouted to a comrade at some distance. Then the bells lost their
+rhythmic chime and jangled confusedly. The train of camels had halted.
+
+Soon an unwieldy, groaning bulk was led in to drink at the fountain.
+Saïd stood very still against the wall of his recess, watching the
+black shapes fearfully, quaking for his treasure, lest the drivers
+should strike a light or any movement of his should rouse suspicion.
+There were sounds of sucking, gurgling and groaning, the swinging tramp
+of great beasts, and a hairy smell. He heard the voices of the men
+debating whether to enter the city in its present disturbed state or to
+sleep at a khan they named without the gate. He grew fretful, burning
+to begin his search for the treasure. It must be taken away at once,
+lest the discovery of Mustafa’s body should lead to a thorough search
+of the place.
+
+At length the last camel was watered and he could hear the men swear as
+they marshalled the train. The rhythmic clangour broke out afresh. With
+an oath of relief he began to crawl upon his hands and knees, feeling
+the pavement stone by stone as he went. He felt everywhere to within
+a hair’s-breadth of the corpse; but not a slab was loose, though he
+fancied one or two rang hollow as he rapped them. The camel-bells were
+but a tinkle in the distance. He was alone and fear breathed hot upon
+him.
+
+In a kind of fury he gripped the dead man’s arm and dragged him into a
+corner. With a shiver of that contact upon him he knelt down to examine
+the place where the body had lain. There was a stone cast up—a wide
+hole. Oh, for a little light!
+
+He let his forearm down into it; and his hand felt gold, both coinage
+and jewellery, which seemed to be contained in a strong coffer of iron
+or brass, of which the lid was open. Lying flat on his belly, with both
+arms in the hole, he long strove to lift that chest—by the lid, by the
+side—but it would not budge. Then he thought if he could only get his
+fingers under it he would have better purchase. He needed something
+thin yet strong to thrust beneath it as a prise.
+
+“May Allah cut short his life!” he panted. “Who but a madman would have
+left our wealth thus exposed? By the Prophet, it is lucky that I alone
+was at hand to hear his last cry …. May his house be destroyed.”
+
+“Peace to him,” he added as an afterthought, setting to work once more.
+He took a knife from his girdle, and managed so to force its stout
+blade under the treasure-box that his fingers could take hold. He
+tugged and strained, tendons cracking, sweat streaming from every pore.
+At last, after many failures, he raised it clear out of the hole and
+set it on the pavement. Praise to Allah!
+
+Sitting back on his heels to recover breath he mopped his face with
+the lap of his robe. Mustafa was indeed a marvel of strength to have
+carried that burden with anything like secrecy from the house of
+Yuhanna hither. He turned the miracle over in his mind, seeking its
+human side. Of a sudden he recalled how the old man had spoken of the
+fountain as a place where he was used to hide trifles of price. The
+riddle was solved; there was no great wonder after all. The strong
+chest was the beggar’s own. He had brought the wealth of Yuhanna hither
+in a sack, or some vessel unlikely to raise suspicion. He had then
+uncovered the hole, opened the chest, and poured the treasure pell-mell
+upon its contents. This evening he had naturally wished to gaze upon
+his riches. And even as his eyes were glutted the angel of death had
+passed over him.
+
+Saïd’s heart grew faint with rapture as he thought that here was more
+than all the treasure of the Christian. Allah alone knew what hoards
+Mustafa might have amassed during long years of begging and pilfering.
+
+“Thanks be to Allah!” he murmured. “May Allah increase thy goods, O abu
+Mansûr!”
+
+But the question was urgent—How to dispose of all this wealth for the
+time being? He dared not replace it, lest, when men came to remove
+the body of Mustafa, they should chance upon the loose slab and haply
+discover it. To bury it somewhere in the darkness and return with a
+sack in the early morning seemed a bright thought; but he could not
+regard it with perfect favour, knowing what mischievous devils lurk at
+night in lonesome places. A jinni might see him bury the chest and play
+some vile prank such as turning the gold to dross, or ashes, or salt,
+or freezing the ground above it to solid rock.
+
+At last he resolved to take his fortune along with him in the pendant
+sack of his voluminous trousers. A weight down there would attract
+no notice, for it is the custom of all men to carry their marketings
+thus—their implements or whatever is cumbrous in the hand. He stood
+and pulled up his overrobe. Holding up the placket of his pantaloons,
+he took money and jewels by handfuls and dropped them in. Passing his
+hand along the bottom of the coffer to be sure it was quite empty,
+he found a small coin which he left for an alms or gleaning. He took
+a step to and fro to see how it felt. The treasure swung as a solid
+whole, bumping his ankles, his shins, and the calves of his legs.
+There was no clink or jingle to betray its nature. It was clumsy, very
+uncomfortable, but (praise to Allah!) quite safe.
+
+He squatted to replace the chest and close the hole. The posture was
+restful, for while it lasted the pavement bore his burden. Then he
+rose, and, with a faint glance towards the carcase of Mustafa, moved
+gingerly away. But no sooner had he turned his back upon the dead than
+a panic got hold of him. He stumbled through the archway out into the
+whispering night as fast as the weight of his treasure would allow.
+
+Weary and bruised all over, he sank within the threshold of Nûr’s
+dwelling, bumping against a small donkey, saddled and hung about with
+gaudy tassels, which stood there patiently with swishing tail. A lamp
+was burning on the floor of the inner room, and Saïd could see the vast
+bulk of Abu Khalìl seated beside the mistress in a languorous attitude.
+Nûr rose full of reproach on beholding the fisherman.
+
+“Thou art returned, O my soul? What is this? Did I not counsel thee
+not to come nigh her for a while? Moreover, it is not safe for thee
+to be here. Search may perhaps be made; all wise men concerned in the
+riot sleep beyond the walls to-night. Our friend, Abu Khalìl, is come
+seeking news of his son, Camr-ud-dìn ….”
+
+Peering into his face she broke off and cried,—
+
+“How is Mustafa? Where is he? Speak!”
+
+“O Nûr, Mustafa is dead!” murmured Saïd with a woeful shake of the
+head. And in truth his heart was near to breaking, for the treasure had
+barked the shins of both his legs, not to speak of ankles and the great
+weight to carry.
+
+She screamed,—
+
+“Just Allah! Hearest thou that, O Abu Khalìl?… O day of disaster! O
+evil day!… Where is he? Lead me to him! None but Nûr shall lay him
+out for burial!… Hearken, O Saïd—O son of his soul and heir of all
+his wealth! I will hire a goodly company of women to bewail him with
+beating of breasts and tearing of hair. Thou wilt not grudge the money,
+for thou art a rich man through his death …. Where is he? Lead me to
+him!”
+
+Very mournfully Saïd told her that the body lay a long way off, in the
+chamber of a certain fountain among the gardens. He recounted the cry
+he had heard, the sudden silence, and his finding Mustafa dead in the
+black recess.
+
+“Allah is just!” he said. “It were well if some men set out at once to
+fetch him hither, for I heard the voice of a jackal near to that place,
+and I would not have my father’s corpse a prey to unclean beasts. For
+myself, I am weary and broken with grief, I may not return thither. I
+am now a rich man, as thou sayest, the wealth of Mustafa being greater
+than any man supposed. Let the burial be according to thy desire.”
+
+During the narrative Abu Khalìl had risen slowly from the couch and
+dragged his vast bulk to the door to listen. Hearing talk of the wealth
+of Mustafa, he appeared dazed, and exclaimed, “Ma sh’Allah!” under his
+breath. He strove to treat Saïd as the heir, with a deference which old
+habits of patronage made to sit awkwardly upon him. Nûr was suddenly
+inspired. She laid her hands wheedlingly on the shoulders of the fat
+taverner and, darting love into his eyes,—
+
+“O my beloved,” she pleaded, “thou wilt go to the fountain of which
+Saïd speaks. Thou canst find a neighbour or two to go with thee: and
+thou wilt bring hither the body of Mustafa! Saïd, as thou seest, is
+broken with fatigue, else he would bear thee company. I shall be very
+grateful to thee, O my soul, and I shall await thee here …. Say not
+‘Nay’!” she cried impetuously, discounting his scandalised stare by
+a pout and a girlish gesture. “I beseech thee, cross me not in this
+matter. He was a rich man, remember; and thou wilt not only oblige me,
+that am a woman and of no account, but also confer a favour upon Saïd
+Effendi, heir to all his wealth, who will henceforth rank with the
+great ones of Es-Shâm …. What sayest thou?”
+
+Abu Khalìl, greatly perturbed, pushed his turban awry the better to
+scratch his head. He glanced furtively from Nûr to Saïd, and from Saïd
+back again to Nûr.
+
+“Now, by Allah, this is no light thing you require of me. Nevertheless,
+since it is the case of an old friend … and to serve Saïd Effendi whom,
+I call Allah to witness, I have ever regarded as a favourite son … I
+say not that I will not go. For all that, it is a hard thing for an old
+man, the father of a family, to go out by night into the gardens where,
+as all men know, gipsies and other children of sin do abound; not to
+speak of those who are more than men—jin, I mean, and afærìt; and the
+uncleanness I shall incur, and the tedious purification to follow ….”
+
+Saïd broke in coaxingly,—
+
+“Be assured, O Abu Khalìl, O lord of kindness, thou shalt have a large
+reward; may Allah increase thy property!”
+
+“Good. I go!”
+
+Abu Khalìl shuffled to the place where the ass stood swishing its tail,
+and bestrode it so earnestly that he nearly fell over on the other
+side. Then, remembering that his steed was tethered, he leaned over its
+head to untie the rope. Nûr led the staggering beast up the steps and
+out into the alley, which the beams of a rising moon were beginning to
+silver.
+
+“I will seek out Zeid the carpenter and Abbâs the Nubian who sells
+sweet stuff!” said the taverner, bowing his head to avoid contact with
+the lintel as he rode out. “Both are young men, strong and fearless.
+Both have donkeys belonging to them, so that we shall seem a goodly
+company riding together. Moreover, Abbâs has a rare whip he showed me
+yesterday, being a strip of the hide of a crocodile or other monster
+common in Masr where he bought it. By Allah, it is a fine thong! Two
+strokes of it would flay a dog …. In your grace!”
+
+“With my peace. Allah guard thee in safety!” cried Saïd and Nûr in one
+breath as the doughty taverner ambled away in moonlight and shadow,
+thwacking his steed bravely on the hindmost part. The clip-clap of the
+donkey’s hoofs and its thousand mocking echoes soon died away.
+
+Nûr stood in the doorway looking after him. She stepped forth into the
+street and listened towards the Christian quarter.
+
+“The tumult still continues,” she said, returning. “It is thin now and
+feeble—the shadow of that I heard during the day. With the dawn it
+will revive; and so it will be for many days till every Nazarene is
+either slain or escaped far away. There is a redness of fire on the sky
+yonder, where all day long there was a cloud of smoke. They have slain
+Allah knows how many hundred Christians; and Mustafa is dead.
+
+“My heart is very sad, O Saïd, light of my eyes! Hadst thou seen him as
+he was when first I knew him, thou wouldst grieve for the days of a man
+which are as steps hewn in the rock leading downward to a sepulchre.
+He was a fine man, I tell thee—straight as a Bedawi’s lance, strong
+and healthy even as thou art. As the breath of winter tears leaves from
+a mulberry-tree, so does the length of years strip the beauty and the
+majesty from a man. At last the tree falls and only the bitter wind
+remains …. Allah is greatest!”
+
+Saïd groaned aloud,—
+
+“Allah is merciful! But, by my beard, it was a cruel word thou spakest,
+that I must go sleep without the city. Only let me abide here and I
+swear I will not go near the girl to trouble her.”
+
+“It cannot be,” said Nûr, firmly. “My house is thy house, and thou art
+ever welcome to that which is mine. But Abu Khalìl has heard a rumour
+that search is made secretly for the leaders in rebellion. It is true,
+what I told thee, that no wise man sleeps within the city this night.
+To-morrow, in the day-time, thou mayst show thyself without fear; the
+slaves of power will then be fast within doors for terror of their
+lives. I will care for the girl and order all things seemly for the
+burial of Mustafa. Go quickly, with my peace!”
+
+Saïd, who, for all his freedom of address, stood greatly in awe of the
+old woman, rose grumbling from the floor, and, holding up the pouch of
+his trousers like a sack, stumbled up the steps into the moonshine. His
+nether limbs were very sore and stiff with bruises. In walking he was
+careful to keep his feet wide apart. He cut such a queer figure, seen
+from behind, that Nûr called after him to know what ailed him.
+
+“I am happy—in the extremity of good health!” he cried back with
+affected cheerfulness. “I did but trip over a stone as I ran hither. My
+knees are somewhat bruised from the fall.”
+
+“Stay, O my eyes, and let me rub them with a salve!” she cried again
+with seduction; for, contrasting his gait with the tones of his voice,
+she knew that he lied.
+
+“May thy wealth increase!—there is no need,” he answered, striving to
+quicken his step.
+
+From a rhythmic bellying of the skirt of his long robe, as well as from
+the manner of his going, Nûr made a shrewd guess at the nature of his
+embarrassment.
+
+“He walks like a she-goat whose udders are over-full,” she thought,
+laughing to herself; “there is something heavy and cumbersome in the
+sack of his trousers.”
+
+That he was loth to linger or speak of the matter afforded her more
+light.
+
+“By the Coràn, it is the treasure of Mustafa he carries thus for
+safety, lest one should rob him of it! He would not trust me so much as
+to let me know, and he bears his punishment along with him. Allah is
+just!”
+
+And in the midst of her grief for the old beggar she chuckled most
+heartily out there in the moonlight, pointing the finger of scorn after
+him with keen and friendly relish of his avarice.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+
+That was a ghastly night for Saïd—a night full of strange faces, of
+awful whisperings, and of the shadow of death. His first thought on
+leaving the city was to find some shelter where he might sleep within
+call of his fellow-men. To that end he sought the coffee-house of
+Rashìd, thinking to find a welcome there now that he was again on
+cordial terms with Selìm. But as he went, in the tremulous shadow of
+the trees and the moonlight between, he grew more and more afraid,
+until the bump of the treasure against his shins and the patter of his
+own footsteps were separate terrors.
+
+It was almost within hail of the tavern, in the gloom of some
+apricot-trees, that he blundered upon something soft, yet tight, like
+a body or a full waterskin. He drew back aghast. A shapeless mass rose
+before him with a horrid groan. Catching up the sack of his trousers he
+ran for dear life. Far from allaying his terrors the lowing of a cow at
+his back lashed him to fresh exertions. He knew it for the angry voice
+of a jinni cursing him.
+
+For hours he fled on by shadowy ways, pursued by a host of devils.
+Foul shapes flitted and danced behind him; dread hands were stretched
+out to stay him and clutch his treasure; a flapping of huge wings
+filled the welkin. Pale faces he had seen in death that day grinned
+at him from the ground, from the sky, from the gloom of the trees.
+Even the dwellings of men—a sleeping village half-seen between the
+trunks, flat-roofed hovels and pleasure-houses bosomed in foliage—were
+sinister, the abode of unknown fears. Fiends rollicked over the
+whole earth. The vista of his life was packed with them—a gruesome
+throng. From his youth up he had been their sport. In the hour of his
+prosperity, whenever wealth had seemed within his grasp, they had
+appeared to balk him. His flight from his native town, the loss of
+his donkey, the robbery which had deprived him of the price of his
+horse—he saw plainly the cause of all his misfortunes. Then, as now,
+he had been the butt of evil spirits.
+
+Of a sudden it occurred to him that the whole night was a procession of
+ghastly, pallid shapes, moving silently as one man. It seemed that he
+had a moment’s insight into the hidden mysteries of earth, that this
+gliding march of a vast, fiendish army, unsuspected of men, had been
+going on ever since the world began, and would continue unbroken till
+the Last Day. The horror of it was not new to him. He had experienced
+it before many times, but could not remember when or under what
+circumstances.
+
+Was not Abdullah himself an evil spirit? And the soldier who had lifted
+his donkey—was he not an afrìt in disguise. There was no doubt of it
+now as he recalled their faces.
+
+In his despair he thought lovingly of Hasneh. Why—oh, why had he cast
+her off? To his fevered brain she seemed desirable as on the day when
+he had first beheld her, a young girl, at play with other maidens on
+the seashore. He would have given the half of this treasure which was
+killing him for a touch of her hand, for the sound of her voice.
+
+  Once he stood still in an open place. He had a mind to lighten his
+  trousers by flinging all his wealth upon the ground. It was for that
+  the hordes of darkness were tormenting him. He cried aloud that all
+  of them might know his purpose, and bade them swear a solemn oath
+  that they would let him go in peace. But there came no answer; only
+  a jackal’s cry out of the distance, ending in three short yaps. It
+  rang derisive—very like a laugh. At that Saïd grew dogged. Since not
+  a jinni of them all would swear, it was their look-out and he would
+  keep the treasure. For two seconds he felt courageous and knew that
+  there were trees about him rustling peacefully in the moonlight.
+
+Fear breathed hot on him again and he ran, a hideous whisper in his
+ears. The balm of the silky Eastern night had no sweetness for him.
+Shifting the sack of his trousers from aching hand to hand, striving
+to keep his mind intent upon the name of Allah, he fled on. The trees
+thinned about him; the gardens gave place to vineyards; the vineyards
+thinned in their turn with spaces of waste land between; the wide
+plain rolled out before him with soft undulations to some low hills on
+the horizon floating in pale haze. The boundless silence throbbed in
+his ears like the pulse of a living creature. The plain whitened in
+the moonshine. Here and there, as the ground waved, there were ribs
+of velvet gloom. A lonely tree, a peasant’s hovel, a dark patch of
+cultivated land, a square-built khan, a knoll, a jutting boulder—the
+least object was distinct with a black shadow on the smooth-rolling
+expanse.
+
+With a clear view all round him and no shades to irk his fancy, Saïd’s
+panic subsided to a holy awe and he slackened his pace. He was very
+weary, the weight of his wealth seeming more than he could bear. The
+howl of a wakeful dog was wafted to him from the distance. In the
+quarter whence it came black specks were discernible upon a rising
+ground. It was an encampment of Bedawin or gipsies, Saïd supposed, and
+instinctively turned his face thitherward. But care for his treasure
+and the fear of marauders prevented him, and he held straight on.
+
+There was already a bite of dawn in the air when he came to a large
+khan, square-built and frowning like a fort, and caught the welcome
+tinkle and stamp of beasts in a stable. There was a well before the
+gate, watched by a great sycamore-tree. The door was open. Saïd stole
+among the beasts in the yard and found a snug nook amid a pile of
+bales. With a sigh of contentment he curled himself up and fell fast
+asleep.
+
+He dreamed.
+
+It was the last day, or he was newly dead; he knew not which. He was
+lying spellbound in a place of tombs. Mustafa lay not far from him
+with a great stone at his head. Veiled women flitted to and fro like
+phantoms. He knew without looking that Hasneh was among them, and his
+soul yearned after her. On either side the stone stood an angel, black
+and shadowy, with a mace in his hand. There was a balance between them,
+hanging in the air, and they were weighing the works of Mustafa. All
+that was good went into the one scale and all that was evil into the
+other. The faces of the examiners were set and moody, as those of men
+who watch a grave issue. Ever and anon they beat the old man’s head
+with their maces, so that he shrieked frightfully. Saïd sweated cold
+with fear lest Mustafa should lose Paradise, and also for his own turn,
+which was to come.
+
+“This soul is lost, O brother,” said one, gravely. “Thy scale kicks the
+beam, though each deed placed there counts two of what is placed in
+mine. Allah is just!”
+
+The other was thoughtful for a space. All at once his stern face
+brightened. A glory like moonlight emanated from it, flooding all the
+plain.
+
+“See!” he cried, pointing towards the city. “There is blood—blood
+of the heathen!—blood of unbelievers!—blood of the enemies of our
+Master! There is a great pool of it, and it is counted to him for
+righteousness!”
+
+At that Saïd waxed faint with relief. Hasneh bent over him and peace
+dropped from her like a precious ointment. The vision faded. There
+was sweet music of bells—a caravan passing in the distance. With a
+deep sigh he awoke to a deafening clangour of real camel-bells and the
+pungent reek of a stable.
+
+It was quite dark and a little chilly. But the khan was astir, and
+through the gate he could see a white eye of dawn opening over the edge
+of the desert. Men with lanterns moved sleepily among the beasts. A
+group of camels were being laden with black millstones, each of which
+it took four men to lift and hold in position, while a fifth lashed it
+fast with a strong rope. The task was enlivened by a chant panted in
+cadence, invoking the help of a holy dervìsh long since in Paradise.
+
+Another and more numerous train of camels had just arrived. They were
+laden with sacks of corn and seemed to have been journeying all night,
+for the drivers were stiff and surly. With them was a woman of wretched
+appearance, who stood timidly in the gate, trying to dispose her
+tattered veil so as to conceal her face.
+
+A bare-legged hostler threw a coarse jest at her in passing. An idler
+pinched her arm and tore aside her veil, vowing he was sick for love of
+her. But a sturdy old man, one of the camel-drivers with whom she had
+come, interfered. He pushed her insulter away roughly, saying that she
+was a good woman and none should vex her while he was by.
+
+In the hope of a quarrel, Saïd stole forward among the beasts and
+merchandise, careful to lift the sack of his trousers above contact
+with any of the coils of rope, halters and saddles which cumbered the
+ground. The other camel-drivers stopped work and gathered about the
+disputants. But the aggressor was a coward, or he thought the woman
+not worth a fight, for he slunk off, muttering that he knew not she
+belonged to any man there. Her champion contented himself with nodding
+his head after him and explaining pithily, in a long growl, how he
+would have punished obstinacy. Their forms moved black in the gateway;
+beyond them was the grey dawn upon the plain.
+
+“The woman is thine, O sheykh?” asked one who stood by with a lantern.
+
+“No, by Allah!” answered the champion, with a shade of defiance; “but
+I hold her as a dear daughter. When I cut my foot upon a stone in the
+neighbourhood of Mazarìb and thought to die for loss of blood, she used
+me tenderly and rent her veil that my wound might be softly bandaged.
+No, she is not my woman, but was given into my care by the men of Beyt
+Ammeh beside Nablûs. There is a strange story belonging to her.”
+
+At the name of Beyt Ammeh, Saïd pricked up his ears. Observing the form
+of the woman narrowly, his heart leapt so that it became a lump in his
+throat.
+
+“The story, O sheykh! Deign to tell us the story!” urged the
+bystanders. Unnoticed, Saïd joined the press about the narrator.
+
+“Know that this woman had a husband, a fisherman, whose name was Saïd.
+He set out on a journey to Damashc-ush-Shâm, the woman with him. In a
+lonely pass of the mountains between Beyt Ammeh and the sea he met a
+man called Farûn riding on a camel, asleep. Then Saïd, being a joker,
+picked up a stone from the path and flung it at Farûn so that he fell
+to the ground. And as he lay there, stunned and bleeding, Saïd took all
+the money that he had and beat him somewhat with a stick, and so left
+him.
+
+“Saïd went on his way rejoicing until he came to the village of
+Beyt Ammeh. There, his woman being faint, he entered the house of a
+certain fellah, who took pity on her and let her lie on his own bed.
+After that, as they sat smoking and conversing, the lord of the house
+questioned Saïd, saying, ‘Didst meet in thy road hither one riding on
+a camel? Behold, my brother, Farûn by name, is gone this day to the
+coast with a load.’ Then Saïd—a clever fellow, by Allah!—answered
+thoughtfully, ‘Yes, it is true; I met such an one. I found him by the
+road in a sad plight. His blood was upon the stones of the path. He had
+been robbed and almost killed by wicked men. I stayed a little to bind
+his wounds, and gave him money—all that I had. I caught his camel and
+set him upon it. Then I blessed him and came on hither.’
+
+“At that the lord of the house praised and exalted Saïd above all the
+sons of Adam. He besought him to abide there several days. But Saïd,
+pretending that his brother was dead in Damashc-ush-Shâm, said that he
+must hasten to claim the inheritance. Nevertheless, since his woman was
+sick, he entreated that kind man to take care of her until she should
+recover her strength. The lord of the house agreed gladly, and when
+he had given Saïd to eat and drink, he blessed him and let him go. He
+paid great honour to the woman for the sake of the mercy shown by her
+husband to Farûn, his brother. But after two days Farûn returned, and
+then, as you may guess, his mind was changed. All the men of Beyt Ammeh
+cursed that clever joker who, having first robbed and beaten Farûn, had
+then left his sick woman to the care of Farûn’s brother. They kept her
+for two months, making her the common drudge of all, supposing that
+Saïd would return or send to fetch her, when they would have slain him
+or his messengers as the case might be. But he was too clever for that.
+By Allah, he is a devil! He had no care for this woman, for it seems
+she is barren.
+
+“So at last, weary of her sighs and weeping, they delivered her over to
+us as we passed through their village, telling us her story and giving
+us a little money to take her to Es-Shâm. They charged us, if ever we
+should meet with Saïd the Fisherman, to slay him without ado for the
+affront put upon their village. But I admire the rogue. He is a famous
+joker—what say you?… By my beard, he is a devil!”
+
+In the midst of the laughter at his cleverness, Saïd pushed through
+the group and confronted the woman. “Welcome, and thrice welcome, O
+Hasneh!” he cried. “Praise be to Allah, thou art alive and in health!
+My heart has been very sad for thee all this long time. I am rejoiced
+to find thee once again, O my soul!”
+
+Throwing up her arms, with a shrill cry, she fell on his neck and wept.
+
+“It is Saïd the Fisherman!”—“Saïd the Joker!”—“Saïd the Devil!” “How
+came he hither?” was whispered in tones of awe; as who should say,
+It is His Majesty the Sultàn—His Excellency the Basha. Men pressed
+forward to touch but the hem of his robe, to get but a glimpse of his
+face; so that Saïd began to fear lest the fulness and weight of his
+trousers should be remarked. He saluted the company, and circling
+Hasneh with his arm, led her out into the brisk air of the dawning.
+
+At the angle of the wall which looks towards the desert they sat down
+on their heels side by side. He told of the awful night he had just
+passed, and she listened, with patient eyes devouring him.
+
+“I am rich, O my beloved!” he cried, plucking at a dew-drenched
+thistle. “I will buy a fine house where we shall dwell together. Thou
+shalt rule over a numerous harìm. I have a sweet girl—a beauty!—the
+daughter of a Christian pig who is slain. She shall be thy handmaid
+to do thy bidding. Let us abide here to-day, for while the tumult
+continues there is neither buying nor selling in the city ….”
+
+He paused, thoughtful, remembering the burial of Mustafa and his duty
+to be present. But reflecting that men would suppose him with the
+slayers, and excuse him for the cause of the Faith, his brow cleared
+directly and he continued,—
+
+“To-morrow, or the next day, we will return thither, when thou shalt
+help me to choose a grand house, and shalt see the girl Ferideh of
+whom I spake. She is sweet, I tell thee—a perfect pearl. But thou art
+mistress of my fancy—that is understood. Now, in the name of Allah
+relieve me of some part of this treasure which bruises my legs and
+impedes my going.”
+
+The prospect seemed very bright to Hasneh. She ceased to grieve that
+her veil was torn. Gladly she opened the bosom of her robe and bestowed
+the half of their riches in the pouch she wore there. The transfer
+made, Saïd rose and took a turn to enjoy his novel lightness. The well
+and the sycamore-tree grew rosy, casting long blue shadows. The wide
+plain was barred and flecked with pink.
+
+“O Saïd, dost thou remember the fig-tree and our house among the
+sandhills by the sea?” murmured Hasneh; and then, with a blissful sigh,
+her eyelids closed against the sun’s first ray, “Allah is Merciful!”
+
+
+END OF PART I
+
+
+
+
+NOTES TO PART I
+
+
+TIME TABLE
+
+  A. D.                                                       Year
+                                                              of the
+                                                              Hejra
+                                                              (Lunar)
+
+  622 (16th of July)      The flight of Muhammed the
+                            Prophet from
+                            Mecca to Medina                      —
+
+  1831                    Ibrahìm Pasha, adopted son of
+                            the Khedive Mehemed Ali,
+                            conquers Syria. Battle of Konia    1256–7
+
+  1831–1840               A time of great prosperity for all
+                            classes, Christians and Moslems
+                            alike, under an enlightened
+                            government                           —
+
+  1840                    Syria signed back to the Sultàn
+                            at Conference of London              —
+
+  1858                    Bombardment of Jedda by the
+                            French as a punishment for
+                            the massacre there                  1275
+
+  1860 (March-April)      Saïd leaves his native town, his
+                            house and his fig-tree by the
+                            seashore                             —
+
+  1860 (June)             The Maronites attack the Drûz and
+                            are slaughtered all over Lebanon    1277
+
+  1860 (June-July)        Great massacre of Damascus            1277
+
+  1860 (September)        Execution of Ahmed Pasha, Wâly of
+                            Damascus, for culpable incompetence
+                            shown during the massacre           1278
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.—“Jesus the Prophet, whom the faithful call Ruh’Allah.”
+It has been told me for a fact that when the exiled Khedive Ismaìl
+Pasha (known to London street-boys of the period as old Ishmel Parker)
+was at Naples, one of the officers in attendance on him challenged an
+Italian in a _café_ for having dared to insult a Prophet of his (the
+Egyptian’s) religion. The man had been blaspheming, it appeared, as
+only a Neapolitan or a Tuscan knows how to blaspheme, heaping foul
+epithets on the name of his Saviour and the Blessed Virgin. A duel, my
+informant assures me, actually took place on these grounds.
+
+CHAPTER XIX.—“The House of Islâm and the House of War.” All the
+territory successively annexed to the rising of the Ottoman Empire
+was classed either as forming part of the “dar ul Islâm,” the house
+of Islâm, or as belonging to the “dar ul harb,” or the house of war,
+according as it was inhabited by Mohammedans or by Christians. In
+the latter case the new subjects of the Sultàn were called “rayahs,”
+and they were personally assessed to ransom their lives, which were
+forfeited by defeat, and as an equivalent for military service from
+which they were exempted, or rather, which they did not enjoy the
+privilege of rendering. This capitation-tax received the name of
+“haratsh,” and its payment entitled each Christian to keep his head on
+his shoulders for the space of one year. (Skene: _An adol, or the Last
+Home of the Faithful_.)
+
+CHAPTER XIX.—“When the first of the sevens,” etc. It was predicted
+in the beginning of the present century by a much-revered sheikh that
+when the first of the sevens falls the ruin of Islâm will commence, and
+when the second falls it will have been completed. We are now in the
+year of the Hegira 1277; the year about to open will invert the first
+of the two Arabic sevens read from right to left—V becoming Ʌ; that
+is, 7 becoming 8, and in the year 1280 of the Hegira the second 7 will
+also be inverted. This prophecy, supported as it is by the reality of
+the troubles now arising in various quarters, has naturally exercised
+a great influence on the fatalist tendencies of the Mussulmans and
+increased their ill-will towards other sects. (Skene: _Rambles in
+Syrian Deserts_.)
+
+CHAPTER XXV.—“The garrison was divided into two companies” (Selìm
+loquitur). Ahmed Pasha sent some troops under the command of two
+colonels into the streets. They soon applied to him for instructions,
+under the impossibility of keeping the peace without resorting to
+violence. He ordered them in writing to fire upon the people. One
+of the colonels in command of the _regulars_ obeyed his order and
+dispersed the mob, proving thus that the evil might have been checked.
+The other colonel, who had charge of the _irregulars_, was won over
+by a Mussulman sheikh, who adjured him in the name of the Prophet and
+their common religion to join them and clear the holy city of Damascus
+of infidels. He went over to the insurgents with his troops. (Skene, as
+above.) For further particulars of the massacre, _see_ Skene, already
+quoted, Churchill: _Druzes and Maronites_, and _Ten Years in Mount
+Lebanon_, and the newspapers of the latter half of 1860.
+
+
+GLOSSARY OF ARAB EXPRESSIONS AND NAMES OF PLACES
+
+  _Abd_ = A servant, a slave, much used with an epithet of the Deity in
+  the formation of proper names, as Abdullah, the servant of God; Abdul
+  Cader, the servant of the Powerful, and so forth.
+
+  _Abu_ = Father of. A man assumes his son’s name with this prefix as an
+  honourable title, letting his own name be almost forgotten.
+
+  _Afrìt_ = A devil, a jinni (pl. afærìt).
+
+  _Ayûb_ = Job.
+
+  _Bara_  = Para. }
+  _Basha_ = Pasha.}    The Arabs have no letter “P” and cannot
+    pronounce it.
+
+  _Bedelíeh askerieh_ = Tax in lieu of military service, levied on
+  unbelievers.
+
+  _Cabil_ = Cain.
+
+  _Caimmacàm_ = A local governor, inferior to the provincial governor
+  (Wâly or Mutesarrif) and appointed by him.
+
+  _Damashe-ush-Shâm_ (or simply Es-Shâm) = Damascus. Shâm in this name
+  is generally taken to mean “Left” in contrast with “Yemen” meaning
+  “Right.” But it has more likely to do with Shem (Ar. Shâm); Syria is
+  called Es-Shâm or Birr-ush-Shâm.
+
+  _Daûd_ = David.
+
+  _Dejìl_ = Antichrist.
+
+  _Dìn_ = Religion, faith—_e. g._, dìn Muhammed = El Islâm.
+
+  _Durzi_ = A Druze (pl. Drûz).
+
+  _Ebn_ = Son—_e. g._, ebn Ali = the son of Ali.
+
+  _Effendi_ = A title of respect given generally to Mahometans.
+
+  _El Ajem_ = Persia.
+
+  _Eljizar_ = Algiers or Algeria (often confused with Eljezireh =
+  Mesopotamia).
+
+  _El Khalìl_ = An epithet of the patriarch Abraham appropriate to his
+  city of Hebron.
+
+  _Emìr_ = Prince, an hereditary and purely Arab title of nobility,
+  having nothing to do with the Turkish gamut of dignities which, like
+  the Russian, are purely official. It is given, for instance, to all
+  the kindred of the Prophet, in addition to the epithet Sherìf (=
+  honourable, holy).
+
+  _Fellah_ = A husbandman, a peasant (pl. fellahìn).
+
+  _Fulân_ = An imaginary person (_cp._ Span. Don Fulano) as we say Mr.
+  So-and-so.
+
+  _Habil_ = Abel.
+
+  _Haleb_ = Aleppo, surnamed the White (Esh-Shahbah).
+
+  _In sh’Allah_ = (lit., if God will) I hope.
+
+  _Isa_ = Jesus (Mahometan).
+
+  _Iskendería_ = Alexandria.
+
+  _Istanbûl_ = Constantinople.
+
+  _Jebel Târic_ = Gibraltar.
+
+  _Jinni_ = A geni, a fallen angel dwelling on earth and sharing with
+  man the chance of salvation (pl. jin or jân).
+
+  _Kâfir_ = Infidel, heathen.
+
+  _Khawaja_ = A title of respect given exclusively to unbelievers.
+
+  _Kibleh_ = The point towards which the face is turned at prayers (for
+  Jews, Jerusalem, for Mahometans, Mecca).
+
+  _Lûndra_ = London.
+
+  _Marûni_ = A Maronite (pl. Mowarni).
+
+  _Masr_ = Egypt.
+
+  _Ma sh’ Allah_ = (What does God wish!) the commonest exclamation of
+  surprise.
+
+  _Mehkemeh_ = A court of law presided over by the Cadi.
+
+  _Miriam_ = Mary.
+
+  _Mufti_ = A religious judge in every city.
+
+  _Mûsa_ = Moses.
+
+  _Muslim_ = A Mahometan (pl. Muslimûn).
+
+  _Mutesarrif_ = A governor of a province, less than a Wâly in dignity,
+  but, like a Wâly, dependent directly on the Sultàn.
+
+  _Nabuli_ = Naples.
+
+  _Neby_ = Prophet.
+
+  _Nûh_ = Noah.
+
+  _Oäh_ = A cry equivalent to “Look out!”
+
+  _Rûm_ = Greece.
+
+  _Sheykh_ = An old man; hence (age implying precedence) a chief, the
+  headman of a tribe, a village, or indeed of any community.
+
+  _Suleyman_ = Solomon.
+
+  _Tarabulus_ = Tripoli (Tarabulus-Esh-Shâm, Tripoli of Syria; not
+  Tarabulus el Gharb, Tripoli in Barbary).
+
+  _The Chief of Mountains_ (Jebel-ush-Sheikh) = Mount Hermon.
+
+  _The City of Peace_ (Medinat us Salam) = Baghdad.
+
+  _The Mountain_ (El Jebel) = Lebanon.
+
+  _The Sunset-Land_ (El Maghrib, el Gharb) = The north coast of Africa
+  west or Egypt: The Barbary States.
+
+  _Wâly_ = The governor-general of a province, appointed directly by
+  the Sultàn (or at least from Constantinople) and for a period of
+  five years.
+
+  _Wilayet_ = The province governed by a Wâly.
+
+  _Yafez_ = Japheth.
+
+  _Y Allah!_ = (O God) the commonest of all exclamations, meaning
+  whatever you please, oftenest with a sense of “Make haste!” or
+  “Forward!”
+
+  _Yesua_ = Jesus (Christian).
+
+
+
+
+PART II
+
+THE BOOK OF HIS FATE
+
+“_O ye men, it is not the great king, nor the multitude of men, neither
+is it wine that excelleth; who is it then that ruleth them, or hath the
+lordship over them? Are they not women?_”—1 ESDRAS.
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+About the third hour of a summer’s day, Saïd the Merchant strolled
+lazily in the streets of Damashc-ush-Shâm. A bare-legged servant, whose
+brown heels peeped in and out of a pair of large red slippers, held a
+sunshade obsequiously over his head. The parasol was white with a green
+lining. It amounted to a badge of the highest consequence, and Saïd was
+faint for pride of it.
+
+More than ten years of ease and good living had greatly increased his
+bulk. He had gained that appearance of mixed dignity and benevolence
+which the habit of a full belly imparts to a man. Many there were who
+louted low to him in the way; he acknowledged their presence by the
+slightest scooping motion of his hand. But a notable of the city riding
+by upon a grey horse, heralded by an outrunner with cries of “Oäh!”
+scattering the crowd to right and left, Saïd was foremost of all to bow
+his head and touch his lips and brow in token of reverence.
+
+He entered the shelter of a roofed bazaar and the sunshade was
+presently put down. The cool shadow, bringing relief from the blinding
+glare outside, disposed all men to dawdle. Brisk movement, the hoarse
+cry of impatience and the peevish oath gave way all at once to sighs,
+murmurs of praise to Allah, and much wiping of faces. Saïd, however,
+thanks to the parasol, was not much heated, and he sauntered on
+leisurely as before. His ample form, richly clad, and his disdainful
+bearing wrung a salutation even from strangers. Such of the bystanders
+as knew his quality blessed him loudly by name. And he said in his
+heart,—
+
+“Can it be that I was once Saïd the Fisherman—a thing despised of all
+men to spit upon? Now behold, I am Saïd the Merchant, in the height of
+prosperity and honour, so that they bow low before me in the market,
+and even men of family deem it no dishonour to kiss my hand. Surely
+I am great and glorious, and my wealth is established upon a sure
+foundation. Allah is great and bountiful, and I, His servant, am much
+indebted to Him.”
+
+The next minute he made a rapid sign with his hand and he muttered a
+formula reputed potent, lest that jealous eye which is ever fixed upon
+the heart of man should mark his boastfulness and lay a snare for him.
+
+The bare-legged servant, very proud of a new tarbûsh he was wearing
+for the first time, now walked a few steps in advance of his master
+to clear the way. The shadow was inky upon the crowd. Motes danced
+golden in a bar of light where a rift in the barn-like roof let in a
+sunbeam. The divers hues of the multitude, and the rich array of stuffs
+displayed in the doorways on either hand, were cool and restful as
+reflections in water.
+
+Striking into another bazaar which ran at right angles to that he had
+hitherto threaded, Saïd turned in at a low doorway of humble seeming,
+bidding the servant await him there. He traversed a narrow passage and,
+crossing a filthy court in sunlight, mounted some worn stone steps. At
+the top of the flight was a crazy door. He knocked, crying,—
+
+“Open, O Selìm! It is I, the master! Make haste, lazy one! Know that I
+am busy to-day and have little time to spare!”
+
+The sound of the voice had not died away ere the door swung inward with
+a great creaking, and Selìm appeared in the entrance. He pounced on
+Saïd’s hand and kissed it.
+
+“Welcome, O my master!” he exclaimed, as he made fast the door behind
+his patron. “It was in this minute that I wished to speak with thee
+concerning certain carpets of thine which have arrived with the caravan
+of Ali Effendi and now lie at the great khan awaiting thy orders. Is
+it thy wish that I go there after noon?… How is the health of thy son,
+Suleyman? Mayst thou be blest in him!”
+
+Saïd sat down cross-legged upon the raised platform of stone which
+formed a kind of daïs at one end of the room. With a look of
+concentration he began to roll a cigarette, leaving Selìm’s questions
+unanswered for a minute. The delicate tracery of the lattice at his
+back sifted and subdued the light while admitting what breeze there was.
+
+It was pleasant to lounge there, in the place of honour of the large,
+cool room, and let his eye range over the piles of rich carpets, roll
+upon roll, which almost concealed the walls. It was pleasant, sitting
+thus, to inhale the smoke of a cigarette, or, better still, of a
+narghileh. The whole of his life passed before him at such times, like
+a tale of the Thousand and One Nights. But for evidence of the piles
+of carpets, and the presence of Selìm, moving to and fro among them,
+he would sometimes have doubted the truth of it all, so marvellous
+it seemed. It was pleasant to recall the old life with Hasneh in the
+little house among the sandhills by the seashore, to curse again the
+treachery of Abdullah, to review his wanderings and all the wondrous
+chances of the great slaughter. Even the weeks of terror which followed
+those days of bloodshed, when the Saving Faith seemed humbled for ever
+and the power of the infidels was paramount in the land, were sweet in
+the memory. He looked back to them as to a dream of delights, for they
+had passed, dream-like, in the first, full rapture of possession after
+long months of yearning. Engrossed by bliss, dazed with a delicious
+languor of soul and body, he had heard talk of executions, of shooting
+and hanging of true believers, only as one hears whose ears are stuffed
+with wool. Sad tidings had reached him in the little pleasure-house he
+had hired among the gardens at the foot of the great brown hills. One
+day Hasneh had returned from her marketing, half dead for horror, with
+the news that Ahmed Pasha had been led out and shot that morning. In
+the space of a week or two, more than three hundred of the faithful
+were hanged, so that the Sultàn’s envoy, who introduced and, as some
+said, invented that shameful and unclean way of death, was named of all
+men Father of a Rope. There were accounts of a French army in Mount
+Lebanon, slaying every Druze they met, were it man, woman or child. It
+was said they had sworn to wipe out the Drûz utterly from the face of
+the earth, because they had dared to be victorious over the Maronites,
+who were reckoned as French subjects for the nonce. But Saïd, though
+cursing the French and all unbelievers by rote, had, in fact, felt but
+little concern for the calamities of his neighbours. The death of Ahmed
+Pasha had been of direct benefit to him, for it set Selìm free to be
+his agent in those commercial enterprises on which he soon began to
+employ his capital.
+
+Ferideh, tamed at last, and submissive to his pleasure, Hasneh re-found
+and willing to wait upon him hand and foot, his treasure bestowed in
+a safe place; he had been feverishly happy throughout that time of
+trouble and disgrace. The true Faith was sure to triumph in the end.
+Meanwhile he had not neglected to pray to Allah five times a day, had
+eaten no pork, and had been careful to avoid handling any unclean thing.
+
+From the height of wealth and honour to which his native shrewdness,
+under Allah, and a run of the rarest good luck had conspired to raise
+him, he could con over his life with some of that enjoyment a traveller
+knows in recounting hardships past. For a long while he sat musing
+with a far-away look in his eyes—a look having no concern with the
+pile of Meccan prayer-mats on which he seemed intent. The smoke of his
+cigarette curled lazily upward in the tempered gloom. A little crowd
+of flies hung buzzing over his head. At length, the silence growing
+irksome, Selìm hazarded,—
+
+“How is thy health, O Saïd?”
+
+“Praise be to Allah! And thy health?” was the mechanical reply. Then,
+starting from his brown study and brushing the flies from his face,—
+
+“We have a fine store of carpets, O father of Mûsa—none like it in all
+the city. For how much, thinkest thou, could we sell all that is now on
+our hands?”
+
+Selìm stroked his beard and his forehead puckered thoughtfully. After
+some inward reckoning he named a large sum of money as a fair estimate.
+Saïd’s face grew rapturous.
+
+“Now listen, O Selìm,” he said, bending towards his henchman and
+speaking in low, eager tones. “It is in my mind to buy the house of
+Mahmud Effendi—thou knowest it?—which is towards the Jewish quarter.
+He asks a vast sum for it—a fortune, by Allah! But it is known that he
+needs money, that his creditors harass him for payment. Wait a little,
+and he will be glad to accept much less. Nevertheless, it is a fine
+house and a costly; the price of it will amount to more than I have in
+my hand. I am minded to sell all these carpets and to part with this
+upper room. In time to come it shall be said of Suleyman: his father is
+a great Effendi, who dwells in a palace.
+
+“Now, O my brother, I know thee for a wise man whose advice it is good
+to take; and thou wast ever careful for my welfare. Counsel me, I pray
+thee, and tell me what comes to thy mind on this matter.”
+
+Selìm stared aghast at his employer. Dismay made his eye-balls dilate
+and his jaw drop.
+
+“To hear is to obey,” he faltered at length. “It is for thee to order
+and dispose of what is thine. I am but thy servant to hear and bow my
+head. Nevertheless, O Saïd, O my brother, O father of kindness, what is
+it that thou purposest? To sell a thriving business like this, which
+yields more and more profit with each year, were the dream of a madman!
+And why dost thou so covet the house of Mahmud? I fear an evil spirit
+prompts thee in this matter, seeking to engulf thy fortune. Hast thou
+not already a fine house enough—one well becoming the lord of thy
+wealth? Hast thou not a beautiful woman for wife, one who is mistress
+of thy fancy, who has already borne a son to inherit thy honour? Hast
+thou not also another wife who loves thee, and maidens to wait on
+thy harìm? Hast thou not two men-servants and a doorkeeper, without
+counting Selìm and all his father’s house, who are ever ready to do thy
+behests? Sure, if ever man was happy, thou art happy; if ever Allah
+favoured any man, He has favoured thee. The higher a person rises, the
+closer do envy and ill-will and hatred beset him on every side. The
+more conspicuous he becomes, the more he has need of money. Hear a
+story, O my brother.
+
+“Know that there was once a man who owned a she-camel, which fed him
+with her milk and earned money for him by her labour. But the man was
+not content. Going one day to the city he beheld in the shop of a
+certain merchant a collar of gold. And he said in his soul, ‘O my soul,
+if I had but that collar I should certainly be happiest of all the sons
+of Adam.’ The thought of it robbed him of sleep by night, and in the
+day-time it was ever present to his mind. At last he bethought him of
+the camel, and he said in his heart, ‘A collar of gold for a camel is
+a famous bargain. Every poor fellah has a camel belonging to him, but
+only the greatest wear collars of gold.’
+
+“On the morrow he arose and drove his beast to the city, and there sold
+her, together with the pack-saddle and the halter, a bag of corn and a
+vessel of oil which happened to be with him in the house. Then he went
+straight to the merchant’s, and, having assured himself that the collar
+was there, he inquired the price. At first the trader laughed and eyed
+him askance, for the poorness of his clothes. But afterwards, finding
+that he had money with him, he deigned to name a sum. It was more than
+the man could pay; yet, being an astute fellow and good at a bargain,
+he at length obtained the collar.
+
+“With it clasped round his neck he strutted about the streets, deeming
+himself an Emìr. It was not for a long while he became aware that men
+were pointing after him and laughing in their beards. Then shame came
+upon him, and he wished to hide the ornament; but he could not, it was
+so big and his robe so scanty and ragged. He tried to unclasp it, but
+he knew not the trick of it, the merchant having made it fast for him.
+He sped to the shop, wishing to give it back and receive his money
+again; but the merchant drove him away with curses and threatening
+words. He dared not have recourse to any worker in metal lest the price
+of his release should be more than he could afford, and, in default of
+payment, the collar should be taken from him.
+
+“By the time he had eaten and drunk and had paid his lodging for one
+night, he had no money left. On the third day he was driven to beg
+in the gate of the city. But those who passed in and out mocked him,
+thinking he was a joker or one that begged for a wager or a vow. And
+this became a proverb in the land: The beggar with the collar of gold
+craves a mite of thee, O muleteer.
+
+“Full of distress he prayed Allah, if it might be, to take away that
+plague from him and give him back his camel. Soon he prayed more
+earnestly that Allah would cut off his life. His prayer was heard; for
+certain wicked men of the city had cast greedy eyes upon the collar.
+They lay in wait for him in a lonely place, and there slew him. But
+being powerless to unclasp the collar, they cut off his head and drew
+it from the neck still fastened.
+
+“Now, O my brother, the drift of my story is clear and needs no
+explaining. I think it no wise thing to sell all thy stock-in-trade
+that thou mayst buy a fine palace. Remember that he who bartered the
+camel for the collar of gold had shame and misery and a ghastly death
+into the bargain.”
+
+During the tale Saïd’s face had become overcast. As Selìm ceased
+speaking his displeasure broke out. Frowning, and with a peevish
+gesture,—
+
+“Thou speakest folly and thy words are far from the purpose!” he cried.
+“What have I got to do with thy poor man and his camel? Behold, I am
+rich, as thou well knowest. Even when I shall have paid the price of
+the house there will yet be money left in my hand wherewith to trade
+anew. Because I speak of selling this shop and these carpets, thou art
+afraid of thy own meat and drink, lest thy livelihood be taken from
+thee. Thou makest believe to rede me a friendly counsel, whereas thy
+mind is wholly set upon thy private advantage. I had thought to make
+thee a handsome present—enough to keep thee in comfort and honour all
+thy days; but now, since thou choosest to cross me, I know not what I
+shall do.”
+
+Stung by the accusation of self-seeking, Selìm bounded to his feet.
+
+“Now, Allah pardon thee, O Saïd,” he exclaimed in a low voice broken
+by emotion. “Surely thou art possessed with a devil to think this evil
+of me! In all the years that I have served thee in this place, hast
+thou ever found me wanting in my duty? Have I not ever loved thee as
+a dear brother, while serving thee faithfully as my lord? Hast thou
+ever known me to seek my own advantage to thy prejudice in the price
+of a single prayer-mat? Do I not bring up my children to bless thee as
+their father’s benefactor?… These words which thou hast spoken wound my
+inmost heart. Behold, am I not thy thing, to take up or to cast aside?
+If I likened thee by chance to a poor fellah, who had but one camel,
+Allah be my witness, it was because I knew no other story to meet thy
+case. Fables ever deal in extremes; I meant thee no insult, as thou
+knowest well. I did but give thee the best advice that I had out of the
+little store of wisdom which is mine. O Saïd—O my dear! I have loved
+thee with a great affection ever since the day thou didst hire me to
+be thy servant, and didst give me that rich garment—the root of my
+honour—which I still cherish in my house. That is long ago, when Mûsa,
+my first-born, was yet at his mother’s breast. Now Mûsa is almost a man
+to wear the turban, yet I love thee with the same love still. It will
+grieve me to forsake this upper chamber, where I have sat cool through
+the heat of many a day; while the bees and the flies and the wasps made
+a drowsy moaning, and the voice of the water-carrier came to me out of
+the street like a wild bird’s cry. It is natural, is it not? that I
+should grieve somewhat at thought of leaving a place where I have spent
+many years in peace of mind and body. And the little room adjoining,
+where all my children save Mûsa have been born, is dear to me for the
+cries of the young ones and the voice of the anxious mother crooning
+soft to them. But thou gavest, and it is thine to take away. O Saïd, O
+my brother, seek not to quarrel with me after all these years!”
+
+The pathos of this appeal touched some answering chord in the
+merchant’s heart, for the lines of his face softened and his eyes
+filled with tears. At last, when Selìm had made an end of speaking,
+and stood gazing at him with eyes full of entreaty, Saïd started up
+and, going over to him, fell on his neck. Surely an evil spirit had
+prompted him to doubt for a minute the good faith of his more than
+brother. He asked forgiveness of the harsh words uttered in haste. But
+he had set his heart on purchasing the house of Mahmud Effendi, and the
+unlooked-for dissension had angered him.
+
+Deeply moved by his patron’s tears, Selìm gave way completely; vowing
+to be faithful to him in all things, whatever he should require. He
+called Allah to witness that he had not meant to oppose Saïd’s will,
+but only to help him with advice, that nothing might be done rashly or
+without due consideration.
+
+“What is the hour?” asked Saïd at length, with a startled glance at the
+tracery of light and shadow thrown from the lattice upon wall and floor.
+
+“It is between the fourth and the fifth, O my master,” Selìm
+pronounced, after reference to the same dial. “With thy leave, I will
+call for coffee, if, indeed, thou must depart so soon.” At his shout of
+“Mûsa!” a sturdy boy, clad in a robe of striped cotton, close buttoned
+at the neck, and having for head-dress an ancient and weather-beaten
+fez, appeared from an inner room. The shrill tones of a woman scolding
+and the piteous howl of an infant came through the same door with him,
+out of the gloom on which he stood revealed.
+
+“O Mûsa, bring coffee and that quickly, for our master has little
+time!” said Selìm.
+
+The two elders took counsel together how to dispose of shop and
+merchandise to the best advantage. There were debts of long standing
+to be collected, or, where the debtor was too great and powerful, to
+be forgiven with as much circumstance as possible. Selìm undertook all
+the more tiresome business of the settlement, leaving for his master
+that lighter part which could be transacted over a glass of sherbet and
+a narghileh. Saïd thanked him, as for a matter of course, and heartily
+cursed the buzzing swarm of flies which infested the room. Then, when
+he had swallowed a cupful of coffee, he arose and set out for the house
+of Mahmud Effendi.
+
+He thought of the joy Ferideh would have in that palace, and his heart
+beat faster; for, after more than ten years of possession, he still
+doted on the daughter of Yuhanna.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+Mahmud Effendi sat in the audience-hall of his great house, in the
+highest seat. Door and windows open on the court showed a vine-covered
+trellis, a few orange-trees grouped about a marble basin, and the
+opposite wall of the quadrangle in dazzling sunshine. Draughts of
+lukewarm air brought the pleasant sound of leaves rustling and water
+trickling to freshen the deep shade of the room, which would else have
+been gloomy and oppressive.
+
+Mahmud Effendi was a man of thirty summers, unhealthily white and
+fat, with dark creases under his eyes. He wore a long morning robe of
+striped silk, a high fez and a finely-embroidered turban; but a pair
+of Frankish boots of patent leather were most obvious as he lolled in
+the cushioned seat of honour. As a member of the Council of Notables,
+and one who had spent a year at Istanbûl to complete his education,
+he usually donned the Turkish frock-coat and dark trousers on state
+occasions. It was told of him that he could sit on a chair stiffly,
+like a Frank, for minutes together without a symptom of uneasiness,
+could wield a knife and fork cunningly and speak with the tongue of
+unbelief. But in the freedom of his own dwelling, with his kinsfolk and
+servants obsequious about him, he was the true Arab grandee, scornful
+and unmannerly.
+
+On the morning in question the couches of the presence-chamber were
+well filled. On the daïs reclined a number of the great man’s relatives
+and cronies, grouped in order of their rank; while the body of the
+hall was sprinkled with the men of the household and other dependants,
+together with sundry persons who presented themselves every morning
+with praiseworthy constancy, for no other purposes than to make their
+names and faces familiar to one in authority.
+
+The walls of the room were a mosaic-work of marble of different
+colours, the words of the Fatiha, or opening chapter of the Coràn,
+running all round under the ceiling by way of frieze. At all points the
+name of Allah met the eye, cunningly obscured and twisted into puzzling
+monograms; and further veiled by such epithets as the Merciful, the
+Praiseworthy, the Powerful, and so forth. The pavement, too, was of
+mosaic, where it could be seen for rugs. A wide stone bench or divan,
+which ran along the foot of the walls, was cushioned upon the daïs,
+bare elsewhere. Before the lord of the house, on a soft carpet from
+Persia, stood a stool, or little table of dark-stained wood inlaid upon
+the top and sides with arabesque patterns of mother-of-pearl. It bore
+an inkstand, a reed pen, and a bulky scroll of parchment covered with
+close writing in a clerkly hand.
+
+Mahmud Effendi was restless and spoke little. No sooner was one
+cigarette lighted for him by an attentive neighbour than he flung
+it away, with an oath of impatience, and began to roll another.
+Conversation in the room was carried on by low whispers, and eyes kept
+straying anxiously to the door.
+
+“This man—what is his name?—this Saïd is late!” exclaimed the great
+one, fretfully, with a yawn. “Is it meet, I ask you, that my father’s
+son should be kept waiting by the child of a dog?”
+
+“It is true! He is late; curse his religion! May the fire, the mother
+of hospitality, be quenched on his hearth, and his father’s grave be
+perfectly defiled!” Glad of the chance to lift up their voices, all
+present cursed the tardy one most heartily.
+
+It was but yesterday that Nasr, the son of his mother’s sister, had
+come to Mahmud with news that a certain merchant, reputed lord of
+boundless wealth, was minded to buy the palace at any price. The
+man, whose name was Saïd, would present himself, said the informant,
+betimes on the morrow. Nasr spent most of his life in the taverns of
+the city. He was a famous gossip and no mean liar. But in this case
+Mahmud, in sore straits for money, had gladly believed his tidings
+and had summoned all the heads of his kindred to support him at the
+interview. Now, seeing that the morning was fast wearing away and no
+one came, he began to have an inkling that his cousin had lied to him,
+knowing his instant need to sell the house and wishing to please him
+and gain honour for himself by bringing agreeable news. He bent ominous
+brows on the unconscious Nasr, who sat fourth removed from him on the
+seat of honour; and was on the point of upbraiding him fiercely with
+the deceit, when a murmur of satisfaction, first raised by a group of
+servants at the door, spread throughout the assembly. A man’s voice was
+heard at the gate, crying,—
+
+“Peace be upon this house, and the mercy of Allah, and His blessings!”
+
+Mahmud Effendi straightened himself in his seat. The elders upon the
+daïs composed their limbs and faces on decorous lines. The menials in
+the body of the hall fell bowing into two rows, forming a lane for the
+passage of the new-comer.
+
+Having slipped off his shoes at the threshold, Saïd the merchant
+entered the presence-chamber with a mien of the utmost deference. His
+servant followed bearing the white parasol with the green lining, as
+it had been a rod of office. Leaving his body-guard among the folk of
+the household, Saïd advanced to the daïs. All the great ones who sat
+there arose at his approach, and his humble salutation was returned
+twentyfold. Mahmud Effendi came a little way to meet him, and, after
+the brief and languid struggle enjoined by politeness, yielded his
+hand to be kissed. Then he led the guest to a vacant seat on his
+right, and called loudly for refreshments. With his own hand he made a
+cigarette for Saïd, and insisted on lighting it for him with a match
+borrowed from the uncle who sat on his left. Then he renewed inquiries
+concerning the visitor’s health, scanning his face earnestly for any
+sign of disorder; while all the rest of the company put the same or
+like questions after him in chorus.
+
+Quite overwhelmed by the honour paid to him, Saïd could only bow
+repeatedly, murmuring blessings upon his host and all belonging to him.
+But when two serving-men drew near barefooted, each carrying a large
+and curiously-wrought brass tray laden with glasses of several kinds of
+sherbet, Mahmud’s attention was called away for a minute and he found
+time to regain composure.
+
+He glanced craftily round upon that numerous gathering, whose presence
+there, he shrewdly guessed, was planned to abash and outface him. But
+the mental resolve to prove a match for them all found no expression in
+face or attitude.
+
+At length, when all the empty glasses were replaced on the trays and
+the servants had retired with them, a silence ensued which Saïd deemed
+favourable for the opening of his business. With a cringing twist of
+his body, he begged the ear of Mahmud Effendi, who gave heed to him
+with the gravest condescension.
+
+It was noised abroad in the markets.—The common people are all
+gossips, scandalmongers, by Allah! and publishers of every silly
+rumour.—It was noised abroad that his Excellency was desirous of
+selling that great palace, where he had the honour to behold his
+Eminence in the extremity of welfare and good health. The report—which
+was of course an idle one, unworthy the credence of a man of sense—had
+at length reached the ears of his Honour’s devoted servant. Though
+at once perceiving it to be a foolish fable, such as low people,
+muleteers and others who frequent the bazaars, spread abroad for love
+of mischief; yet it had so far carried weight with him that, being at
+present in search of a fine house and having by the blessing of Allah
+some little wealth at his disposal, he had allowed his mind to dwell
+on the thought of this great palace, to desire it. He had therefore
+ventured to wait upon his Grace, in order to make sure that the report
+that he had heard was groundless, and, in case there should be a
+measure of truth in it, to inquire what price his Worship was pleased
+to demand. He was aware that it ill became him, a small man and of no
+account in the city, thus to thrust himself forward in the presence of
+his Highness and of his Highness’s illustrious kindred there assembled.
+To aspire to possess that fine house was the last presumption in one
+of his mean quality. As for the notion of supplanting, or in any sense
+replacing, his Excellency, it was far from his mind. Can the fox claim
+fellowship with the lion? And yet it is no sin if the fox come to dwell
+in the lion’s den, after the noble beast has forsaken it, needing
+change; provided he do so meekly, with a proper sense of his own
+unworthiness, giving praise and thanks at all times to Allah for his
+great good fortune.
+
+He (Saïd) was a merchant, whose business, by the grace of Allah, had
+thriven with him; and, whereas a great one of the city, having much
+property but little ready money, would pay the price hardly and by
+many instalments, he was prepared to bring the whole sum at once in
+his hands and place it in the hands of his Excellency. A small sum
+paid down in its entirety was worth more than the promise of great
+riches. Wherefore—his voice became a coaxing whine and his smile waxed
+eloquent of deprecation—wherefore he had dared hope that his Highness
+would deign to abate something of the price in his favour; if he were
+indeed minded to sell the house, which was most unlikely. Might Allah
+preserve his Excellency’s life for ever, and increase the goods of his
+Excellency to the crowning point of his prosperity.
+
+Mahmud Effendi listened to all this long speech with courteous
+attention, as did all who sat upon the daïs, taking their cue from him.
+Having heard Saïd patiently to an end, he raised a hand to his beard
+and stared round upon the faces of his kindred with the dazed look
+of a man taken quite by surprise. After a pause long enough to fully
+impress the visitor with a sense of his amazement, he spoke slowly and
+falteringly, as one striving to muster his wits.
+
+“Allah pardon! It was a false report thou heardest, O my uncle. Men
+are wont to speak idly in the markets, and their tongues wag ever most
+glibly of those who sit in high places. I marvel only that a man of thy
+penetration should have paid any heed to their talk. The wish to sell
+my house is very far from me; nay, it was but in this hour I was taking
+counsel with the heads of my father’s house about a plan for adorning
+the women’s apartments with a screen of Cairene lattice-work, and to
+inlay the walls of the court with devices of marble. At the moment of
+thy entering I was reading in that scripture thou seest upon the table,
+which is an exact account of all that the house contains and the value
+of it. If thou doubtest the truth of what I say, inquire of any man
+here, and he shall certify thee.
+
+“By my beard, I am amazed at thy speech, for to sell this house, which
+belonged to my father and my father’s father before me, was never
+further from my thoughts than it is to-day.
+
+“And yet … now that thou hast put it in my mind, I know not that I
+should altogether refuse to sell, were one to make me a tempting offer.
+As thou sayest, a large sum in the hand is better than the like sum
+paid in slow instalments. Moreover, a man like me has many liabilities
+to which one of thy condition is not subject. Thou receivest money
+every day, and thy wealth is with thee in the house; whereas the
+fortune I inherit is vested in lands and houses, which cannot be moved,
+and which it is tiresome to sell; and withal I must always be spending.
+Thou art eloquent, O my uncle, and thy talk sways my mind a little.
+Having no instant need of money, nor indeed any enduring wish to sell
+at all, I shall not certainly part with this fine house for less than
+its utmost value. Nevertheless, since the whim is upon me, I am curious
+to know what price thou wouldst offer!”
+
+He did not wait for Saïd’s answer, but very carelessly shouted an order
+for coffee to be served at once.
+
+All his kindred raised hands and eyes ceilingwards, calling Allah to
+witness their astonishment at what they had just heard. Mahmud Effendi
+to think of selling his house! Surely the great man spoke in jest! If
+he were indeed serious, then the sun might shortly be expected to rise
+in the west! They murmured together in amazement and concern.
+
+Saïd, with eyes fixed upon one of his host’s Frankish boots, appeared
+lost in reflection. At length he faltered,—
+
+“O my lord, know that I am a small man, wholly unworthy to compete with
+thee in any way. Who am I that I should presume to set a price on that
+which belongs to thy Highness? Deign to name such a sum as thou deemest
+just, and I, thy servant, will say whether I can afford to pay it. I
+am a small man and my wealth limited. Notwithstanding, having a great
+regard for thy Grace, I shall endeavour by all means to content thee.”
+
+“Truly thou askest no easy thing of me,” muttered Mahmud, with puckered
+forehead. “It is hard to compute the price of that which has never been
+sold nor valued for sale. If I were really earnest in this matter,
+I should say, Bring valuers, one for thee and one for me. Let them
+go over all the premises and make each his estimate. But, as it is,
+wishing only to know what thou wouldst give, I know not what to say.
+I would rather that some other gave an opinion in my stead, lest thou
+shouldst say, Of course, he extols that which is his own. Now behold,
+there are many honourable persons here present, who know the house
+perfectly and all it contains. If it please thee, let them confer
+together and we will abide by their judgment.”
+
+But Saïd put in humbly,—
+
+“Nay, O my lord, I cannot engage to pay whatever price the arbiters may
+lay upon me. My wealth, alas! has limits. Allah keep thy Grace ever in
+safety; that which I ask of thee is only reasonable.”
+
+“Of course, it shall be as thou choosest,” said Mahmud, carelessly.
+
+While the coffee was being passed round, the umpires spoke earnestly
+together in low tones, now glancing at Saïd, now at their kinsman,
+with manifest impartiality. At last they resumed their seats and their
+former languid postures. An aged man, uncle to Mahmud on the father’s
+side, had been chosen spokesman. He now rose to make known the verdict.
+
+The sum he named made Saïd wince, though he was prepared for almost
+any extravagance. Mahmud himself could not refrain from throwing an
+admiring glance round upon his relations. The merchant smiled painfully
+and stroked his beard.
+
+“Well, what sayest thou, O my uncle?” said Mahmud, in a voice of
+encouragement. “Remember, thou hast not yet seen all the house, and
+this is not the only fine room in it. Observe the walls a little, I
+pray thee, what excellent workmanship is there! By the Coràn, I think
+it a low estimate. What sayest thou?”
+
+Saïd, though secretly gnawing his underlip, made shift to smile.
+Shrugging his shoulders and spreading his hands wide in deprecation:
+
+“The price exceeds my fortune,” he murmured. “I cannot bid more than a
+third of it.”
+
+“Never!” cried Mahmud, in extreme disgust, fending off the insulting
+offer with his hand. “Never!” cried all his kindred in chorus, eyeing
+Saïd as though he had done every one of them a mortal injury.
+
+A long and chilly pause ensued, until Mahmud, having managed to bring
+his outraged feelings into subjection, renewed his inquiries after the
+visitor’s health in the cause of hospitality. But there was a marked
+change in his manner, and Saïd, perceiving that he was no longer
+welcome, made haste to depart. The lofty courtesy of his company had
+daunted him during the whole interview. That sudden change from the
+sunshine of condescension to the frost of contempt sent him forth
+bewildered into the scorching street. But ere he had made many paces
+from the outer gate he was again master of his wits.
+
+Walking in the shade of the white parasol with the green lining, he
+reviewed the whole scene with a chuckle. With patience, he felt sure
+of getting the house at very nearly his own price. He had made a not
+unreasonable offer. In a very few days, he foresaw, Mahmud would
+summon him once more to his presence; and then the haggling would
+begin in earnest. It might last a month, it might last a year. All
+depended on the temper of the great man’s creditors. In any case, he
+felt sure of his bargain in the end; and the memory of that splendid
+presence-chamber made his brain swim with ambition.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+The house of Saïd the Merchant was so set in the heart of the city
+that for strangers and country people, who had not the clue to the
+labyrinth, it was a day’s work to find it. The approach from the
+nearest bazaar was by an archway infested with dogs and beggars, down
+a winding lane, and through a gate in the wall. Even after the gate
+was passed, callers were forced to ask their way, for one passage gave
+access to three several dwellings, and who, uninspired, could tell
+which door to choose? As one stood on its roof and looked out over
+the town, it seemed an easy feat to scramble thence to the minaret
+of Isa, half a mile distant, without once descending to the level of
+the streets. You would have deemed Es-Shâm hewn of a single stone, so
+hard it was to mark where one building ended and another began. It was
+on the house-top that Saïd was wont to say his prayers at nightfall,
+and often in the day-time, with face turned duly southward towards
+the kibleh. Often, too, he would cause a servant to bring an ewer of
+water to him upon the roof, and there, in sight of the many who sought
+refreshment in the evening air, he would perform the lesser washings of
+preparation, without which no prayer of man is acceptable to Allah.
+
+He had a very large and precious copy of the Coràn, so exquisitely
+written that each word was a monogram for a learned scribe to
+decipher; for Saïd it was quite illegible. This manuscript, bound
+in finely-chased leather, was carried every Friday by a servant to
+the mosque, together with a cushion. It was a small place of worship
+frequented by poor people, to whom a merchant was a great man. As soon
+as Saïd was comfortably seated on the cushion, the volume was placed
+in his hands. Opening it at random, he would recite some passage which
+he knew by heart, in a very loud, nasal voice, and to the edification
+of all who sat there on the bare stones, waiting for the coming of the
+preacher.
+
+He was known to give alms of all his substance, and it was understood
+he would make the pilgrimage as soon as ever his house and business
+could be set in order. No wonder that he was reckoned a holy man,
+esteemed and reverenced of all his neighbours; the roof of his house
+being high and conspicuous, and little of his devotions done in private.
+
+His abode consisted of a small square court, elaborately paved; three
+sides of which were taken up by the living rooms and offices, the
+fourth being filled by a blind wall of the next house, in which was
+the entrance door. The court was no larger than a large chamber, and
+the house was small to match it, but convenient and more roomy than
+it promised to be. Hard by the entrance was a little chamber with a
+vaulted ceiling, where the doorkeeper lived, and facing it, across the
+court, yawned the doorway of a large cellar or storehouse beneath the
+women’s apartments, where cooking and other work of the household was
+done.
+
+It was in this place that Hasneh sat on a morning, grinding with one of
+her maidens at the handmill; while another who, being high in favour
+with Ferideh, thought herself entitled to do as she pleased, sat
+idly looking on, burying her hand in a sackful of wheat, and letting
+the grains glide through her fingers. The sound of grinding was loud
+in room and courtyard, relieved by the voices of the women chanting
+shrilly at their task. Now and then one would cease singing and let go
+the handle, to draw her veil closer as a protection from the flies;
+only to burst out afresh in song, and fall again to the turning with
+renewed strength.
+
+Out in the sunshine, the doorkeeper, a burly negro, could be seen
+dozing with head against the wall. The heat and the glare, abhorred of
+others, were dear to him. He basked in them languorously, with closed
+eyes, stretching himself like a cat and showing his white teeth.
+
+“Our lord is late to-day,” said Hasneh, excitedly, pausing to push
+back a fold of her robe which was in the way. “Allah grant no ill has
+befallen him. I have to speak with him when he returns.”
+
+“Thou hast to speak with him, sayest thou?” said the maid who sat idle,
+in languid amazement. “Is it thy errand, pray, or another’s?”
+
+“There is a word from Nûr, the old woman, and something I must add to
+it of my own knowledge.”
+
+“It is plain thou hast little understanding, O mother of nothing!” said
+the girl, jeeringly. “Our lord holds thee of no more account than an
+old sandal, and the words of thy mouth are as the voice of a fly in his
+ears. If Nûr desired a hearing for her message, she would surely have
+addressed herself to the lady Ferideh, or to me, that am her handmaid.
+This errand of which thou boastest is some slight message of compliment
+such as men bandy in the streets and count not. Or it may be”—the girl
+tittered—“thou hast something of moment to tell concerning thyself.
+Nûr is reputed skilful in such matters. How is thy health, O honoured
+lady? Say, art thou once more with child, O mother of a thousand?”
+
+Hasneh let go the handle of the mill and sprang to her feet. Ever since
+Ferideh had borne a son her life had been full of bitterness. Never a
+day passed without some cruel jest at her expense. The child she would
+have loved for his father’s sake was trained by his mother to strike
+her and spit at her. From the time he first began to lisp, Suleyman
+had been taught to call her Childless Mother, Mother of Wind, and a
+host of other unkind names; and the maidens, aping their mistress, were
+for ever nettling her with the like taunts. Anger, as she had learnt
+by long experience, only gave point to their amusement; and she had
+schooled herself to be patient under their gibes. But this morning,
+with a biting retort on the tip of her tongue, she gave full vent to
+her pent-up spite.
+
+“Daughter of a dog!” she screamed. “May thy father’s grave be defiled
+and thy race perish utterly from off the earth! Thou art made on the
+pattern of thy mistress, and she is a harlot! Our master is deceived
+when he thinks her at the bath all the morning. Ah, I have learnt a
+thing by the mouth of Nûr—a thing which, whispered in Saïd’s ear,
+will cause the downfall of this fine lady who lies all day long among
+soft cushions, and fears to soil the whiteness of her fingers. Saïd
+may kill her in his wrath—such deeds are common!… No, I warrant thee,
+the message I bear to Saïd is no vain compliment—by Allah, no! It is
+of weight to crush thy mistress and thee, and a hundred like thee. Go
+tell Ferideh that I have enough of her taunts, that I will abide them
+no more! Give her my peace, I pray thee, and call her by the name she
+has earned for herself! To be childless by the will of Allah is no sin;
+but for a woman to be faithless to her husband is a crime in the sight
+of God and man. Let her despise me because I am without issue, because
+my hands are rough with work while she lies at ease; it is well—very
+well! Praise be to Allah, I am not as she is—curse her father!”
+
+Hasneh spat at the girl, who blenched before her. Then, still trembling
+with the tension of her outburst, she sat down with what countenance
+she might, and turned her handle of the mill so furiously that her
+helper was obliged to expostulate.
+
+“What is there?” cried the negro, sleepily, from his basking-place in
+the yard. “Allah destroy you women! A man can enjoy no length of peace
+for the noise of you. It seems that a warm day of summer, when it is
+pleasant to rest and praise Allah, is the same to you as a winter’s day
+of rain and wind. You quarrel at all times, jabbering at the pitch of
+your voices. Be quiet, I say, and cease bickering, or I will throw my
+great staff at you!”
+
+“Hold peace thyself, O Ibrahìm, and be more courteous in thy speech!”
+retorted Hasneh, highly, from her task, without looking at him or
+turning her head.
+
+Conscious of having knowledge which would ruin her enemy, elated from
+the triumph of her late denunciation, she was inclined to be arrogant.
+She fondly believed that the shame of Ferideh would mean her own
+reinstatement; and clearly the handmaids were of a like opinion, for
+their bearing towards her was wholly changed. The girl, Ferideh’s pet,
+whose ill-natured jest had called forth that storm of her wrath, sat
+shrinking and abashed, and seized an early occasion to slip away. Her
+fellow-worker at the mill was become obsequious, full of attentions.
+
+She exulted in the thought that Saïd would be restored to her at last;
+forgetting that she grew old, that the day of her charm was passed and
+the light of youth quenched in her eye. She recalled bright moments of
+her life; the last days of maidenhood, when Saïd led a bride to his
+dwelling on the seashore; her meeting with him after long separation
+in the gateway of the lonely khan, in the first pallor of the dawning.
+Then, as they sat together, the sun rising upon the desert, he had
+vowed that she alone was mistress of his fancy, and should rule in his
+harìm. His heart had warmed to her then, and she had been very happy.
+But Ferideh, the Christian’s daughter, had cast a spell upon him,
+weaning his love from her. Now it was in her power to make him hate
+Ferideh, and, when the first mad rage of jealousy should be spent, he
+would surely come to his old wife for comfort. Her heart made a song of
+passing sweetness rhythmic with the grinding of the mill.
+
+She was indulging in such dreams as these when the tones of her lord’s
+voice, cursing the doorkeeper for a sleepy pig, scion of a race
+of dogs, caused her to start. She rose quickly and, disposing her
+shroud-like clothing as decently as the hurry would allow, stepped out
+to meet him in the sunlight. Her companion remained by the mill, gaping
+after her with eyes of awe.
+
+Saïd strode aimlessly into the yard, followed by his bare-legged escort
+and the sunshade. Seeing Hasneh come towards him, he greeted her
+carelessly and straightway turned his back; but she ran, and, falling
+on her knees, caught the skirt of his cloak.
+
+“Allah bless thee!” he cried testily, striving to draw away. “Come
+to me at another time when I have leisure. For the present I am very
+busy …. O Ferideh, what wouldst thou, light of my eyes? I come to rest
+awhile with thee till the heat of the day be over …. Let go my robe,
+woman, lest my anger light on thee!”
+
+In her eager haste to be heard, Hasneh had had no eyes save for Saïd
+only. She did not see Ferideh issue forth from the door of the women’s
+quarters, nor the face of the favourite handmaid peeping from the
+projecting lattice of the upper storey. Now suddenly, as Saïd ceased
+speaking, she found herself face to face with her adversary; and the
+shock robbed her of speech. Ferideh had come forth hurriedly, unveiled.
+Her eyes were steely bright, her mouth was a thin line of dire rage and
+determination.
+
+Hasneh still clung to the merchant’s robe, but her gaze was fixed on
+her rival’s face, fascinated with a kind of horror. Saïd strove to free
+himself but could not.
+
+“If, indeed, thou hast anything to say, speak, woman, and make an end!”
+he exclaimed, with rising anger. “If thou art dumb, as thou seemest to
+be, unhand me—dost hear?—and that speedily, or it shall be the worse
+for thee!”
+
+“O Saïd, O my beloved, hear me but a minute!” she gasped, aiming to
+kill Ferideh with her eyes. “It is no good news that I bring thee, O my
+soul. Know that Nûr visited thee this morning, and, finding thee from
+home—”
+
+She fared no further, for Ferideh sprang on her and closed her mouth.
+Though, from glaring in her rival’s eyes, Hasneh had seen what was
+coming and was half prepared to meet it, the shock all but bore her to
+the ground. It forced her to quit hold of Saïd’s garment, and, kneeling
+as she was, pressed her back and down on her heels.
+
+“Merciful Allah! What does this mean?” cried the lord of the house,
+surprised out of all countenance. “Allah destroy you both! Speak, O
+Ferideh! What has Hasneh done to thee that thou shouldst so misuse her?”
+
+“Thou askest what she has done!… O my dear lord, she is a liar, a
+backbiter and a breeder of all mischief! She hates me, as thou must
+surely have observed, with a great hatred, because I have borne a son
+to thee while she is childless. She had a quarrel in this same hour
+with Sàadeh, my handmaid, wherein she called me every foul name and
+swore to poison thy mind against me, she cared not by what falsehood.
+Every day she does something to my hurt or annoyance, and Sàadeh tells
+me that she has vowed to kill Suleyman, thy son and mine. There is no
+safety with her in the house …. Do I not right to stop her mouth with
+my hand lest she speak a lie in thy ears? A false tongue is powerful
+to make mischief, and, Allah pardon! I die only to think thou mightest
+have believed her tale. O my beloved, hasten to my chamber, where I
+will explain to thee the whole matter.”
+
+One of her hands closed Hasneh’s mouth while with the other she held
+her rival’s throat in a tight clutch, forcing her backwards so that she
+was nearly powerless. Even when Saïd sharply bade her let go if she
+would not strangle the woman, she still clung to her hold.
+
+“Speak, O Ibrahìm,” quoth Saïd, turning to the doorkeeper, who, with
+the bare-legged henchman, stood looking on aghast. “Heardest thou aught
+of this quarrel of which the lady speaks?”
+
+“Yes, surely,” replied the negro, with a candid grin. “There is
+no doubt but that the mother of Suleyman—may she be blessed in
+him!—speaks truth; for I myself was disturbed a while ago by a great
+din, and heard with my own ears the lady Hasneh utter foul insults. But
+of a truth I wonder not that she grows spiteful, for she is the butt
+and laughing-stock of the other women. They name her Mother of Wind
+and jeer at her for no reason. It is no wonder, I say, if she try in
+her turn to hurt them a little, for to my knowledge they use her very
+ill. No one should laugh at a camel for his crookedness, nor at a woman
+because she is childless. These are as Allah Most High was pleased to
+make them; it is no fault of their own if they are not otherwise.”
+
+Saïd waved him off impatiently.
+
+“Enough,” he said. “I perceive clearly that the right is with thee,
+Ferideh. Now leave off fighting with that woman and come with me into
+the house. It is a sin that thou shouldst be so unveiled in the sight
+of men.”
+
+Ferideh gave her enemy a final push, so that she fell heavily on her
+side. Exultant, with bright eyes and face aglow, she followed her
+lord into the gloom and coolness of the house. A reaction shook her
+from head to foot, inwardly, as the seeds of grass are shaken. As
+she crossed the threshold of an inner door, the voice of Hasneh was
+lifted shrill to denounce her. The words were of hatred unmeasured
+for bitterness. They let her know all that she had escaped. Looking
+soft-eyed into her lord’s face, with hand caressing his arm,—
+
+“Said I not that she had a grudge against me?” she murmured. “Hear now
+the words of her mouth, how evil they are. Hadst thou listened to the
+voice of her spite, thou hadst believed her tale, perhaps, and then,
+alas! I had lost thy love, O prince of my soul! Did I not well to
+silence her in time?”
+
+“Thou didst well,” whispered Saïd, fervently, drawing near and circling
+her with an arm. “But Allah have pity! thy hand bleeds. The palm of it
+is bitten through. Behold the blood is on my robe—and thine likewise!
+Thou hast great courage, O my beloved. By the Coràn, I, who am a man,
+and reputed no coward, had screamed for a wound like this.”
+
+Smiling tenderly, “I felt it not,” she murmured, seeking his eyes. “I
+care not what befalls me so that I be still mistress of thy fancy, O
+stream of my life!”
+
+He tore a strip of his own clothing and swathed her hand in it. Full of
+care for her, he did not quit her chamber until the evening.
+
+After a frantic attempt to pursue her rival, which was easily
+frustrated by the two serving-men, Hasneh returned to the storehouse.
+She found it empty, for the work of grinding was done and the maid was
+flown to join her fellow in another place, to chat over the scene and
+debate its meaning. For a great while she sat there heart-broken. Once
+Suleyman ran in upon her out of the sunlight, to kick her, spit upon
+her, and slap her repeatedly with his tiny hands; cursing her religion,
+her parentage, and calling down all evil upon her for the hurt done to
+his mother. But, as she seemed not to heed, the child soon wearied,
+and, with a last kick, trotted out again into the court. She could hear
+him pestering the doorkeeper, telling the tale of her misdeeds with a
+child’s exaggeration of detail. Then he went back to his mother or to
+join the maids, and there was quiet once more.
+
+At length, when the day was far spent, she drew her veil, and, gliding
+unobserved by the drowsy negro, bent her steps towards the cellar of
+Nûr.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+“O my loved one, I tell thee there is no end to her hate of me; and
+Nûr is as her mouthpiece in this matter. Thou wouldst know the reason?
+That I cannot tell thee, for I myself have not ascertained it. But one
+thing is sure: she would fain destroy me and mine. For my life I fear
+her, and for the life of Suleyman, the hope of thy father’s house. It
+may be that she cannot bear to see me preferred to her in the secret of
+thy love, to know that I shall rule a part of this great mansion thou
+art minded to buy. She would kill me, thinking to make thee all her own
+once more. Laugh with me, O my soul!—she thinks she yet has charms to
+tempt and hold thee …. She will say all things to turn the favour I
+have found in thy sight to loathing; and, if speech avail not, she will
+certainly compass my death and the death of Suleyman, thy darling. This
+day she has tried one way and failed. It is likely she will next bring
+Nûr hither, as it were to confirm her report, to tell thee lies of her
+teaching. Thou wilt not hearken to her, O my lord? Swear to give no
+heed to the words of her mouth—the words of my enemy, whose creature
+she is! O Saïd, swear this to me by the spirit of thy religion! For the
+sake of the son I have borne to thee, set my mind at rest! My heart
+grows sick for fear I should lose thy favour by which alone I live.
+Swear that thy understanding shall lend no weight to their calumnies,
+that I may know I have yet a little grace in thy sight! And ah! swear
+to put away this wicked woman—to cast her forth as an evildoer from
+thy house. Does she not daily, hourly, plot my death and the death of
+thy son? Is she not therefore guilty of blood? O Saïd, O my beloved,
+O spring of life to me, scorn not my prayer or I shall know that thy
+desire is clean gone from me!”
+
+Saïd fondled Ferideh’s head as she lay in the crook of his arm upon
+the couch. He swore eagerly, as a lover swears, that he was deaf
+thenceforth to all that might be said against her. But with regard to
+Hasneh, he would ponder the matter at length and decide what was best
+to be done.
+
+At that she cried out that he loved her not, and made as if to break
+away; but his strong arm held her fast. Pouting, with reproachful
+eyes,—
+
+“What is this?” she whispered. “Art thou then weary of me and has
+that foul hag thy favour, that thou shakest so thy head and wilt not
+vouchsafe me a plain answer? Does she not plot to murder me and my
+child?—Ay, and it may be thee also, O sun that warms me! My prayer is
+for thy happiness and the lives of all who love thee. Cast her forth, I
+beseech thee, as thou carest for me.”
+
+She hung upon him with strained throat and bosom crushed. Her eyes
+languished into his, striving to cast that spell upon him which made
+his heart like melted wax for her will’s moulding. For a brief space
+his purpose wavered. The faintness of strong desire came upon him as a
+mist confusing his brain, so that he saw things dimly. But he mastered
+himself; and his face took on a look of tender firmness, such as one
+uses to chide a well-loved daughter.
+
+“Allah witness, I would do all things to preserve thee, O Ferideh, O
+garden of my delight! But this one thing I cannot; to cast out a woman
+who has been mine since first I wore the turban, and who has given
+proof of faithfulness in many trials and hardships. To do this would be
+a crime in the sight of Allah, and all my neighbours would cry shame
+upon me. It may well be that she is jealous, but thou in thy anger
+dost think too ill of her. Nevertheless jealousy is an evil spirit to
+possess man or woman. It makes a virtue of foul sin, and is mother to
+the lust of blood. I will have her watched narrowly, I promise, so that
+her malice shall not harm thee. Moreover, I swear I will never speak
+friendly to her from this hour forth, since she is hateful to thee, O
+full moon of my nights. But cast her forth I cannot, lest all good men
+should forsake me.”
+
+He thought directly of Selìm, that upright servant, before whose
+outspoken criticism and advice he had quailed more than once despite
+his show of assurance. Selìm was a good Muslim, a man pious and devout
+both in practice and at heart. Had he been born to wealth and eminence
+he would have been revered of all men for a saint, even as Ismaìl
+Abbâs, the Sherìf. Saïd, coveting above all things a reputation for
+sanctity, had come, almost without knowing it, to model his behaviour
+on that of his bailiff. Whenever a question of conduct confronted him,
+he would refer it mentally to Selìm, conjuring up a bearded face, with
+mild eyes looking shrewdly from under a high, turbaned forehead. This
+time the brow of the vision was knitted in strong disapproval and the
+eyes were keen of reproach.
+
+Though far from content with his answer, Ferideh understood that it
+was final. She hung back from him, and, resting her chin in her hand,
+sulked awhile with downcast eyes and jutting underlip. The change from
+girlhood had taken nothing from her charm. The full, round lines of
+bust and limbs, scarcely blurred by her under robe of silk gauze, might
+coarsen to fatness by-and-by, but showed as yet no more than a pleasing
+softness. The skin of her face and neck were waxen white, except the
+cheeks, which were painted. Paint also was responsible for the extreme
+redness of her lips, which made them like a wound. Her grey eyes,
+artificially brightened, languished under long black lashes; and her
+hair was glossy with unguents.
+
+Saïd’s passion for her, instead of abating, had grown with the years.
+Hasneh had given him her whole heart at one gift, and he had soon
+wearied of her. But with Ferideh he was haunted by a suspicion of
+something withheld, of some inner shrine still barred to him. There was
+a reserve in all her tenderness. Though never felt at the moment, it
+struck him always in the retrospect. Looking back upon the times when
+she had been most yielding and full of endearments, he recognised its
+presence then as ever. And the feeling of something beyond kept his
+ardour alive, as the fire leaps always to fresh fuel.
+
+The scene of their talk was an upper chamber, lighted discreetly by a
+deep-bayed lattice projecting over the yard. The vault of the ceiling
+was shaped like a sea-urchin; and from the height of its dome a curious
+lamp of bronze hung by a chain of the like metal. In one corner,
+near the door, stood a bed, decked with a white coverlid cunningly
+embroidered with gold, and veiled by mosquito curtains of the finest
+gauze. It was a true Frankish bed—just such another as that Saïd had
+coveted years ago, in the house of the missionary. Its iron frame was
+supported on six legs, and above it at each corner stood a brass knob
+flanking the rail. He had bought it of a Greek merchant for the price
+first asked, so instant was his desire of it, and the money burning his
+hand. Two or three large stools inlaid with mother-of-pearl, a great
+chest or press of the same workmanship, a large divan, wide as the bed,
+and made as soft with gaily-coloured cushions—these and a number of
+vessels and trays of earthenware, copper, brass and even silver, set in
+a row beside the entry, made up the furniture of the room. The walls
+had once been painted in a chequered pattern, but the paint had worn or
+peeled off for the most part, and none had cared to renew it. The pair
+were alone.
+
+“What part has Nûr in this business?” asked Saïd at length, breaking
+a thoughtful silence. “She has ever been most friendly to me—and to
+thee likewise, O my soul; since it is by her aid that I am lord of thy
+fancy. It cannot be that she is turned my enemy …. By Allah, no! it is
+impossible.”
+
+Ferideh slipped from the couch and knelt at his feet. She reached out
+her arms to draw him down to her, gazing tenderly into his face.
+
+“O my great lord,” she murmured, with a playful fondness, “thou art a
+man and wise, while I am but a woman and of no understanding. Yet must
+I be thy seer, it seems, to point out to thee the cause of many things
+thy wisdom cannot fathom. Know then, O breath of my life, that mightier
+than jealousy, more misleading than strong drink, more heady than the
+perfume of a fair woman, is the greed for money. Now Nûr is the very
+mother of avarice, and, since her lot is not as the lot of other women,
+she can have her will of what belongs to her. A maid or a wife may
+hoard money, but she is sure it will never profit her. With this old
+woman it is otherwise. The thirst for more grows on her with the years.
+I doubt not but thou didst fully requite her for her service to thee
+in the year of the great war, when—may Allah preserve thee for ever,
+O father of kindness!—thou didst stoop to rescue me, thy handmaid,
+from the ruin of my father’s house. I say, I am sure thou didst reward
+her nobly. Yet, now that she beholds thee rich and high in honour, she
+remembers it as little and grumbles openly.
+
+“O my beloved, the cause of all this coil is thy distrust of me. I am
+not jealous of Hasneh—Allah forbid! Yet it grieves me to think that
+thou hast a secret with her which is concealed from me. I mean the
+secret of the place where thy store is hidden. Nûr knows well that
+Hasneh is in thy confidence; it is for this that she courts her favour.
+I, thy servant, am the main obstacle in her way, wherefore she, as
+well as Hasneh, schemes to remove me; well knowing that I suspect the
+Mother of Wind, and keep strict watch on her and all who visit her. I
+know not what reward she holds out to Hasneh, but it must be a great
+one; for Sàadeh tells me that the eyes of the childless one brighten
+strangely when she speaks apart with her, and all her bearing is of one
+who clinches a rare bargain. Now, my lord, thou knowest all—as much as
+I have been able to gather of the plot. May Allah preserve thy life to
+me for ever, and may all who hate thee perish utterly!”
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+Saïd’s anger burst forth like a torrent after rain.
+
+Even Ferideh’s life was of less moment than his precious hoard. He
+called down every kind of shame and disaster upon Nûr and all her kind.
+Though his understanding discounted the tale of Hasneh’s complicity,
+his savage rage of the moment made no distinctions. He had no doubt
+but that Nûr had beguiled his woman to let her into the secret of the
+hiding-place; and he cursed Hasneh with all the venom of threatened
+greed.
+
+A slight hubbub arose in the court below, but he heeded it not, though
+Ferideh strained her ears to listen.
+
+“By Allah, I must at once remove my treasure to some other place; and
+henceforth I will trust thee, and thee only, O Ferideh,” he muttered
+in a kind of frenzy. “It may be they have filched from it already.
+Praise to Allah, thou hast warned me in time! At present there is but
+a small sum in the house; but, after a few days, when my shop and
+stock-in-trade shall have been sold, the whole head of my wealth must
+lie here for a while, until I have closed the bargain with Mahmud;
+for I have sworn never to trust a usurer with my fortune. Mahmud is
+obstinate and makes a brave show of holding out, but I know privately
+that his need is urgent; and he must shortly come to terms. By the Holy
+Coràn; by Allah Most High, I shall henceforth trust thee only, O my
+soul! Now listen ….”
+
+She sat at his feet with veiled eyes, but her whole posture told of the
+keenest attention. The chatter of voices in the yard was no more to her
+now than the droning buzz of flies which filled the room, and which
+from long use was accounted silence.
+
+“Thou knowest the roof of this chamber, how it towers above the rest of
+the house, and the flight of steps leading up to it. Beside the steps,
+on the right of one ascending, there is a stone like to other stones in
+the wall, seemingly firmly set as they. Thou mayst know it by the mark
+of a chisel near its centre. It is a cheat, being but a thin slab—the
+door of a kind of cupboard. This night I must move my money thither,
+and if thou canst contrive to join me by stealth, I will teach thee the
+trick of it. It was made by the owner of the place for his own ends. He
+showed it me as giving his house an advantage over others; but hitherto
+I have not used it, considering that Ibrahìm, the doorkeeper, had dwelt
+long on the premises and might well have an inkling of its whereabouts.
+But now that my own hiding-place is discovered, I must place the money
+there. Henceforth thou and no other art in the secret. Allah reward
+thee, that thou hast warned me in time!”
+
+Ferideh kissed his hand and fondled it, her face shadowed by the
+tresses she had loosed to charm him. A sweet perfume rose from her,
+enervating him. He stretched his hands to raise her.
+
+But, even as he leaned forward, the door was pushed open and Suleyman
+ran in with a burst of laughter.
+
+The little boy was arrayed as a miniature Turkish soldier—a fancy
+dress Saïd had seen in the shop of a tailor, and had brought home with
+him to please Ferideh. The doorkeeper had fashioned him a tiny wooden
+sword, which he wore proudly stuck in his belt. With a spoilt child’s
+confidence he flew straight to Saïd, laughing, childlike, for no cause
+whatever. Scrambling upon the couch, he seated himself cross-legged,
+still laughing, ere he deigned to speak.
+
+“O my father,” he piped. “It is Nûr, the old woman, who is come to
+see thee. She waits below with the Mother of Wind, whom I have beaten
+stoutly—I promise thee, by Allah—for making my mother’s hand bleed.
+She—I mean not that wicked one, but Nûr—she bade me say that she
+would speak with thee alone. Now I love Nûr well, because she brings
+me sweets from the shop of Kheyr-ud-dìn, and Kheyr-ud-dìn, as thou
+thyself hast said, O my father, is the lord of all for candies. See, O
+my mother, what she has brought me to-day!”
+
+He opened his hand to show a sample of the sweetmeat called “baclawi,”
+which is a kind of pastry sandwich, filled with spices, sugar, and a
+dough of sweet nuts, the whole perfectly soaked in honey. The hand
+displayed was sticky, so he licked it; rubbing his belly with the other
+to convey a gluttonous joy.
+
+“Up, O Suleyman!” cried Saïd, fiercely. “Run, bid this old woman come
+hither, to this room, if she has aught of importance to say to me. Tell
+her besides that I have no secret from the mother of my delight!”
+
+The little boy slipped down from the sofa and stood a minute staring
+up at him, the half smile of his parted lips begging but a little
+encouragement to become a guffaw. Then, awed by the sternness of the
+eyes meeting his, he ran to do the errand as fast as his short legs
+could carry him.
+
+Ferideh snatched up a shroud-like garment and a veil which hung over
+the end of the couch, and made haste to don them. Then she knelt to
+Saïd and kissed his hand, pressing her forehead to it, as a servant
+craving protection. He fell to stroking her head-dress, a great storm
+in his throat choking speech.
+
+They heard footfalls on the stair, and a sound of laboured breathing.
+Then the tall figure of Nûr, which the years had bowed a little, stood
+in the doorway; and a deep, unquavering voice said,—
+
+“Peace be upon thee, O Saïd, child of my soul! and upon thee also, O
+daughter of Yuhanna.”
+
+Ferideh returned the salutation mechanically; but the wrath of her
+lord broke through the habit of a lifetime. Without one word of
+compliment or blessing, he rushed upon the visitor and cursed her for
+a thief and a liar, the mother of all mischief. She stood aghast as
+one thunderstruck, staring at him, while he heaped insult upon insult,
+sparing no taunt that might wound her. He reviled her with her way of
+life, calling her all the foul names his throat could frame or his lips
+utter. He spat upon her for a robber, and would have smitten her face
+where the eyes shone through the veil, had not Ferideh rushed forward
+screaming to stay his arm.
+
+For long Nûr remained speechless under his abuse; but by degrees, the
+lash of his tongue stinging her, she waxed furious. The words of her
+mouth scarcely reached Saïd save as a stream that strove and failed
+to drown the torrent of his cursing. Yet a few of them remained with
+him long after as a menace. “I have loved thee ever as my own child,
+O Saïd, lord of ingratitude. I would have served thee with my life.
+And yet thou returnest me no greeting when I bless thee, neither
+dost thou wait to hear my tale, but assailest me suddenly with evil
+words, heaping dishonour upon me. Thou art a fool thus to outrage one
+who never drew near thee with any other purpose than to promote thy
+welfare …. Get me gone, forsooth! Yes, truly I will get me gone, and
+that for ever, from this house and the pig its owner. Allah witness,
+I wash my hands of the dirt of thee. It is well seen thou art the son
+of low people, O fisherman, who breakest every law of behaviour in
+thy own house. See how he winces, how the mean soul thinks shame that
+he was once poor by the will of Allah! Ah, there are many things thou
+didst bind me not to tell which now shall be made known in the city!
+How gottest thou that wealth, the root of all thy honour? Didst thou
+not take it from the old man, the beggar who called thee son? And did
+he not plunder it from the house of Yuhanna, father to this woman,
+whom he slew with his own hand? Was there not the Sultàn’s order that
+restitution should be made, even to the full amount of all that was
+looted from the Nazarenes? and hast thou made any? Have I not been thy
+preserver a hundred times, when a word of my mouth could have ruined
+thee? Even now, when I publish the truth, thou shalt hardly escape a
+heavy penalty. It may be they will deprive thee of all that thou hast;
+for the Wâly is needy and loves money, and thy name and honour stand
+not high enough to acquit thee ….
+
+“Allah knows I loved thee as though thou hadst been my own child, and
+because I loved thee I have been a shield to thee these many years; but
+now all ties are broken betwixt me and thee. All I know concerning thee
+shall be noised abroad; and thou hast told me much that ill becomes a
+believer. Thy neighbours shall turn from thee with loathing when they
+learn how thou didst use thy more than father, when he lay dead; making
+off at once with the money, and leaving thy duty of burial and grief to
+be done by others. Oh, may Allah blast thy life and blind thee, thou
+hypocrite who wouldst be called a saint! I came hither, a friend, to
+warn thee of a peril threatening thee: I go hence, thy foe till death,
+the friend of thy haters, O dog, son of a dog!”
+
+She was gone and the sound of her retreating steps died upon the
+stairs. But odd phrases of her speech, which had come to him through
+the thunder of his own rage, rang yet in Saïd’s brain, like the
+catch of an evil song, and rankled there. He frowned and his eyes
+grew haggard. A hush seemed to have fallen upon the house; or was it
+only that he was deaf from the late uproar? He pictured the servants
+whispering together in corners, and hoped to Allah no word of Nûr’s had
+reached them. He heard the voice of the doorkeeper raised in a farewell
+compliment, and the slam of the closing gate behind someone who had
+passed out; and he was thankful to know that she was gone.
+
+Ferideh laughed scornfully, looking at the empty doorway as if she
+still saw the bowed figure filling it, wrapped in its shroud of blue
+with tarnished fringe of gold. Then, marking her lord’s gloom, she
+knelt down at his feet and put up her arms to him.
+
+“Praise be to Allah!” she murmured. “Now I surely know that I have
+favour in thy sight, because thou hast refused to hear the tale of
+this wicked woman, which is a lie even as the words she spake but now
+concerning thee are all lies. Seem not so sad, O my dear, for she is
+powerless to hurt thee seeing thou art set high in wealth and honour,
+and all men know thee for a good man and an upright. For the sake of
+the kindness thou hast shown me in this matter, and because thou hast
+deigned to reveal to me the secret place of thy treasure, I am now more
+fully thine than ever before. What thanks can I render thee, O my soul?
+Behold, my inmost secret heart is thine, and I have no desire apart
+from thee. Take me in thy arms, O sun that warms me! Kiss me, O my
+beloved!” …
+
+Whereat Saïd became as one of no understanding.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+On an evening Saïd went forth alone into the gardens, to the
+coffee-house of Rashìd, which was on the river bank. He was sure to
+find Selìm there at that hour; and he walked eagerly, having blithe
+news to tell. At last Mahmud Effendi had humbled himself, and Saïd was
+master of the bargain, though in no haste to conclude it. One more
+interview with the needy grandee and he would own the finest freehold
+palace in the city. Moreover, thanks to his address in beating down the
+price, he would have plenty of money left when it was paid. The surplus
+he would employ in trade and usury, to such advantage that he would
+soon be the richest man in the province and highest in honour. He saw
+himself a member of the Council of Notables, enthroned at the Wâly’s
+right hand, advising the Governor in all things.
+
+The sometime fisherman hugged himself at the prospect. As he emerged
+from the eastern gate the last rays of sunlight, glanced from the dark
+hill-tops, were melting the leafage to amber and pale gold. A rich
+purple gloom gathered in the east, under a sky of amethyst melting
+to palest green. Down the narrow road, between stone walls more or
+less ruined, which led to the pleasure-groves by the riverside, men
+in flowing robes were sauntering by groups of two and three. Their
+moving shadows were long, oblique and very blue. Most of them dangled
+chaplets, whose beads they shifted lazily one by one. A few of the more
+exquisite held flowers of strong perfume to their nostrils, at which
+they smelt rapturously with a deep breath like a sigh.
+
+The blaze on the hill-tops died suddenly, leaving a glow as of live
+coal. All things took on soft, dead tints. Shadows grew faint, ashy
+grey all at once. The sky basked in an afterthought of glory, growing
+tender for the stars.
+
+A low doorway of the kind which is usual in walled vineyards admitted
+to the garden, or rather wilderness, in which was the tavern of
+Rashìd. Saïd bowed his head to pass the lintel, and then stood still
+in astonishment. In a space pretty clear of the bushes, which formed
+thickets on every side, there were four tents pitched. Three of them
+were large marquees; the fourth, a mere canvas screen about a fire,
+was observed closely by a gathering of curious loafers. Hobbled horses
+grazed where they could. In the mouth of the largest tent a party of
+Franks, lounging on chairs of loose structure, were enjoying the cool
+of the evening. The sound of their laughter reached Saïd, like the
+beating on a tin for emptiness. From the point of the tent where they
+sat drooped a small flag of red, white and blue, oddly striped. Saïd
+knew the pattern of it. It was the same which fluttered on the first
+day of every week over the dwelling of the English Consul. “Travellers
+from the land of the English,” he thought, and marvelled at the folly
+of men who, having wealth and honour in their own country, and being
+neither merchants nor pilgrims, would thus wander forth in discomfort.
+
+Taking stock of the encampment, he drew near to the tavern. Two or
+three persons who knew him rose and saluted at his approach. He
+returned their greeting in a preoccupied manner and passed on to
+Selìm, who had carried his stool apart and sat against the trunk of a
+walnut-tree which overhung the stream. Rashìd himself was forward to
+bring a seat for the merchant and to ask what he would be pleased to
+drink.
+
+“What news, O my master?” asked Selìm, settling down once more to the
+enjoyment of his smoke.
+
+“Good news—excellent!” rejoined the other, with a complacent purse
+of his lips. “Praise be to Allah, one may say that the bargain is
+concluded.”
+
+“Now, by my beard, I am happy with thee. May Allah make thee blest in
+it!”
+
+There followed silence between them for a little while; Saïd reviewing
+his cleverness with a gratified smirk, Selìm gravely watching the dark
+swirl of the eddies in their bed of pale stones.
+
+“I needs must call in all my money by the third day of next week,”
+murmured Saïd, as one who thinks aloud.
+
+Selìm knitted his forehead, calculating.
+
+“To hear is to obey,” he said ruefully. “Nevertheless, there is much
+business and the time is short. Two weeks would scarcely suffice for
+all that must be done, and behold, thou givest me but a few days. He
+who sells in a hurry sells at a loss. If, as thou sayest, thou hast
+made an easy bargain, it cannot surely be that thou wilt need the whole
+of thy wealth. O my brother, I counsel thee to put off the sale of thy
+merchandise for at least a little time!”
+
+“It cannot be,” said Saïd, peevishly. “I must know the true sum of
+my wealth. To buy a fine palace and not to know exactly what was
+left to him were the action of a fool! The man who did so would be a
+laughing-stock, and rightly despised …. By Allah, it would be sweet to
+hold it all before me—all the great wealth which is mine—to pass my
+fingers through it as one does through dry grains of corn; to reckon
+it over and over and know that it is with me in the house. Praise to
+Allah, who has made me rich!”
+
+“Now, Allah forgive thee, O my brother, for thou settest too great
+store by thy money. Thy heart and thy soul are in it. At that time evil
+befalls a man when most he vaunts his honour and is puffed up because
+of it. It is not right for one to keep too close an account of his
+goods. A man’s fortune is like his vineyard: the heart of it is his
+own, but every wayfarer has a share in the outlying parts which skirt
+the highway. Who would deny a bunch of grapes to the thirsty? And if
+he pluck for himself, would any be found to blame him? So the heart
+of thy fortune is thine by Allah’s leave; yet thou shalt not take too
+exact an account of it, lest from always saying ‘I have so-and-so much’
+thou set thy wealth between thee and Allah Most High. When a man has a
+field of corn he will suffer God’s poor to glean in it at the harvest
+time. Likewise, when a man is blessed with riches even as thou art, it
+is seemly that, in taking account, he leave an undefined portion for
+the poor. Nothing of all a man has is his own, but he must pay a part
+of it in alms to God. If he omit to do this, Allah Himself shall call
+him niggard and shall soon strike him down, as unworthy, from his high
+estate. O my brother, all this while that I have been thy servant it
+has been in my mind that I would rather be a simple hireling, as I am,
+than the lord of great riches, as thou art. Many snares are in the path
+of the great, but—praise be to Allah!—the way of the humble is plain.”
+
+“Thou speakest vainly,” said Saïd, snapping him up; “and thy words
+have no point for me. All this which thou tellest me so solemnly, as
+if it were some new piece of wisdom, I have known and observed from
+childhood. With what one fault canst thou tax me, I should like to
+know!… Do I not give alms to the utmost of all that is mine? Do I not
+always praise Allah at the appointed hours? Have I ever omitted to
+purify myself according to the law? By Allah, I wish to know for what
+cause thou scoldest me!”
+
+Selìm pleaded,—
+
+“Nay, O my master, be not angry with me. Allah forbid that I should
+venture to chide thee at all. I know well that thou art in all things a
+just man, and I myself have great reason to bless thee. I call Allah to
+witness that, from the time thou didst bestow on me that rich garment
+which I still treasure in my house, I have held thee always as a dear
+brother. It was but as a brother that I spoke to thee, fearing lest
+thou shouldst make for thyself an enemy whom none may withstand. And
+in truth I think thou holdest too much by the outward duty of the law,
+which, as his Honour Ismaìl Abbâs says, is to its spirit as the word is
+to its meaning, or the shell of a nut to the kernel. Moreover—”
+
+But Saïd stopped his ears.
+
+“Enough! Enough!… Thou wilt provide that the goods and the shop be
+sold, and the money brought to me on the second day; I command thee: it
+is finished. And now, with thy leave, we will speak of other matters.”
+
+After that Selìm was silent a great while, while Saïd puffed defiantly
+at his narghileh.
+
+The stars were bright by this time, though the sky above the western
+horizon was still pale green and lustrous. A single dome of the city,
+seen through a gap of the foliage, seemed to shine beyond the dark
+walls with a spiritual whiteness all its own. The moon, a thin crescent
+like the paring of a finger-nail, hung just above it, salient as a
+jewel on that silky sky. A bird cried drowsily from the upper branches.
+The wailing voice of a singer came from some other pleasure-house down
+the stream. The eddies sang and murmured as they sped by.
+
+Anon Saïd picked up his stool and drew near to the tavern.
+
+He had remarked the grouping of those who sat there about some person
+in their midst, and had caught several deep-breathed “Ma sh’Allah’s,”
+betokening amazement. Undoubtedly there was some story-teller whose
+fables might serve to while away an hour and dispel the gloom which
+Selìm’s sanctimonious croaking had cast upon him. He imparted the
+conjecture to his henchman, who followed, nothing loth.
+
+They set their stools within the circle of light shed by a clumsy
+lantern which hung from a joist of the roof; their coming hardly
+noticed by the other customers, so absorbed were they in listening to
+the words of him who sat in their midst. Those nearest them, on the
+outskirts, turned their heads for a second and that was all. Rashìd,
+grown very fat with the years, was leaning against the doorpost of the
+inner room. His eyes ranged over the seated crowd before him and his
+lip curled in scorn.
+
+Saïd beckoned him to draw near.
+
+“Who is the narrator, O my uncle?” he whispered. “Is it anyone of whom
+one has heard? Are his stories worth heeding?”
+
+“Faugh! It is no narrator, effendi, but only a braggart Nazarene who,
+having acquired a smattering of the learning of the Franks, is become a
+dragoman. It is a shame that true believers are found to flatter him by
+giving ear. By the Coràn, it angers me to see it! He is a great liar,
+as thou shalt presently hear.”
+
+Having imparted this to the merchant in an undertone, the taverner
+returned to his doorpost. The rays of the lantern brought the faces
+of some of the listeners into warm relief; but the story-teller had
+his back to the light. He wore a fez set rakishly on one side, and
+for the rest was very gaily dressed in the Turkish fashion. He seemed
+consumedly proud of a whip of rhinoceros hide mounted and ringed with
+silver, for he kept it constantly before the eyes of his audience,
+illustrating every remark with a flourish. The man’s attitude was
+boastful and assuming, blent, however, with pride at sitting thus on
+equal terms with men of the dominant creed. Without, in the blue gloom
+of the garden, the camp-fire and the light of a lamp within the largest
+tent shone bleared and ruddy. Black shapes were seen moving athwart
+them from one to the other; the travellers were being served with their
+evening meal.
+
+“And that city—that Lûndra of which thou speakest—is it a great city
+like this of ours, or a small place like Hama or Zahleh?” asked an old
+man of poor appearance.
+
+The dragoman laughed loud and long.
+
+“O Allah!… O Lord!… How you make me laugh, you men who have seen no
+land but that you were born in! I tell you that if the city Es-Shâm
+were five times as great as it is, it would not amount to the half of
+that great city Lûndra of the English.”
+
+At that there was great outcry of wonder and unbelief. “Ma sh’Allah!”
+cried some and held their peace, aghast. “Allah pardon!” cried others.
+“Was there ever such a liar? We are simple men and unlearned—that is
+true—but this thing passes belief!”
+
+“By the Holy Gospel, I speak truth,” insisted the dragoman, with
+vehemence. “May Allah cut off my life if that which I say exceeds the
+truth by one little. I am likely to know; for I went to the city of
+Lûndra and sojourned there half a year by favour of an English lady—no
+less than a princess, by Allah!—who loved me and would have me with
+her in the house.”
+
+“Ah, the women! Tell us, I pray thee, O Khawaja, what the women are
+like,” said a young and handsome Muslim with a chuckle of self-conceit.
+
+The dragoman grew rapturous.
+
+“The women, mean you? Ah, how can I describe them!… And yet I promise
+thee it is not from want of knowledge that my tongue fails me. The
+girls of that nation are white and often plump. Their hair varies in
+colour from black to the hue of clean gold. They are cold and difficult
+to men of their own race, for whom they are used to care nothing; but
+they are warm and easy of access to foreigners, and especially to us
+sons of the Arab, whose blood is as fire in our veins, whose speech is
+impassioned poetry: so different from the men of their nation, in whom
+the blood is a stagnant pool and the tongue a sluggard. When I was in
+Lûndra, fair women followed me in the streets to beseech my company.
+I speak not, you understand, of the loose women of that city, who
+are very fine and numerous, but of the wives and daughters of men of
+substance. There were even some who offered me money to go with them.
+I tell you, any son of an Arab of an agreeable presence could have his
+pick of the women of that land, from the wife of the greatest Emìr to
+the daughter of the meanest fellah.”
+
+“By the prophet, I have a mind to visit that country,” said the young
+Muslim with a fatuous laugh.
+
+“Now in this party which I conduct at present”—the dragoman pointed
+with his whip in the direction of the tents—“there is a girl—ah! I
+tell you—a pearl—a delight.” He held out his hand, pressing the tip
+of his thumb on that of the extended forefinger: the common gesture of
+those who would describe something too nice for words. “She loves me,
+and comes forth to me every night while her parents sleep. She entreats
+me always to marry her; but I am doubtful whether to do so or not. Her
+father, you must know, is rich—a great lord. It would be honourable to
+wed the daughter of such an one. Perhaps—Allah knows!—I shall yield
+at last to her prayers. Hist!” …. He sank his voice swiftly. “Hither
+comes the very girl. No doubt she strays in search of me. Observe now,
+I pray you!”
+
+Saïd stood up so that he could look over the intervening heads. Every
+neck was craned, and all eyes peered in one direction.
+
+A young girl of about sixteen years, clad in the close-fitting garb of
+the Frankish women was sauntering towards the tavern, eyeing the scene
+there with dreamy curiosity. She wore no head-dress save her thick fair
+hair, which hung free down to her shoulders, where it was gathered in
+and confined by a ribbon. In spite of her unveiled, undraped state,
+which, to the mind of the onlookers, was little better than nakedness,
+she moved freely, without a trace of embarrassment, until she grew
+aware of the gaze of so many prying eyes, when she averted her face
+and stepped more consciously. She passed just within the sphere of the
+lantern, so that a faint, warm light played on the outlines of her
+figure, hinting rather than revealing its slender grace. Her hands
+clasped behind her neck threw her bosom forward, strengthening the
+curve of it. Saïd had often seen Frankish women and had marvelled at
+their lack of modesty, but he had never beheld one so fair, so young
+and so perfectly shameless. Believing the tale of the Nazarene, he
+envied the good fortune of that son of a dog.
+
+She was passing by with a timid glance when she caught sight of the
+dragoman, who to that end had thrust himself forward. She smiled and
+nodded graciously to him, saying something kind in her own language.
+The man replied in a tone of familiarity which conveyed all he meant
+that it should to the minds of his hearers.
+
+“Aha!” said he, as soon as she was out of earshot. “Aha! She is a
+peerless gem. By-and-by, when her parents sleep, she will steal out
+to seek me. By Allah, her mouth overflows with honey. The taste of it
+makes me drunken.”
+
+The young Muslim stared after the maiden; then, turning,—
+
+“Now, by my life, thou art in luck’s way,” he said. “It is well seen
+how fair she is! But her father is surely a man of no understanding,
+and her mother must be like unto him, to let her thus wander without a
+covering.”
+
+“There is one law for the daughter of an Arab, another for the child of
+a Frank,” said the dragoman, sententiously. “As for me, I have dwelt
+so much among foreigners that a veiled woman is almost a strange thing
+to me. And, in truth, I know no cause why a woman should veil her face
+any more than a man, unless she be extremely frightful or loathsome to
+view.”
+
+The tavern-keeper here spoke for the first time, and severely,—
+
+“Young man, thou speakest folly, being a stranger to the Faith that
+saves. It is a law from of old that every woman shall hide her face
+from the sight of men. Know that sinful Cabil ebn Adam did lust
+after his twin sister, Abdul Mughis, and for her sake slew Habil,
+his brother, who was a good man and dear to Allah. Wherefore it was
+ordained that all women should hide their shape, that mere lust of
+the eyes might never more induce so great a crime. Allah is just and
+merciful!”
+
+At that the garrulous talker was abashed, and his audience looked
+strange upon him. In the interest they took in his conversation they
+had all but forgotten the difference of creed. A pause fraught with
+mutual shyness ensued. Then the dragoman called for more arak and
+launched forth once more, though with somewhat less of assurance,
+feeling lonely all at once.
+
+Saïd abode in the little tavern until the first watch of the night
+was almost spent. He was unaccountably interested in all that the
+rascal had to tell of that distant land of the English, where the sun
+was seldom seen, and the women were at once so lovely and so kind to
+strangers. He questioned the narrator shrewdly as to the state and
+manner of trade in those parts, and was pleased with the answers he
+got. It seemed that the finer merchandise of the East—as silks and
+rich carpets, spices and sweet perfumes—were much prized by the
+Franks. The way of life there was easy, he learnt, for one who had
+money and was warmly clad. He felt attracted, and hoped to visit that
+land.
+
+He imparted this desire to Selìm as they walked back together to the
+city whose walls rose black before them under a sky pale with stars.
+But Selìm was chary of sympathy.
+
+“It is true what the drunkard told concerning the Frankish women, how
+they love men of the East,” he said gravely. “Lo, is there not the
+English princess in our midst—she who dwells in the house called the
+House of the English Garden, which is beyond the Christian quarter?
+She submitted herself to a young man of the Bedawin, and is become his
+wife. It is true what the dog said. But as for thee, thou hast not yet
+performed the great pilgrimage; and that must be done ere thou canst
+think of migrating to a land of unbelief.”
+
+“Perhaps the right is with thee,” rejoined Saïd, moodily. “Yet, from
+what the infidel said, it must be a pleasant land to dwell in—none
+like it under Heaven! Didst mark the girl, how sweet she was? By Allah,
+it is a shame that the son of a dog should have her …. I charge thee
+make all speed with the business of which we spoke. Allah keep thee in
+peace, and may thy night be happy!”
+
+They kissed and parted at the city gate.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+Early on the morning of the second day of the week Saïd strode through
+the bazaars towards that familiar upper room which was his shop and
+which would soon be no longer his. His servant walked a little in
+advance of him, using the furled parasol as a staff to admonish such
+of the crowd as were slow to make way. All the ways were thronged with
+noisy folk. The whole city hummed of life. Rifts in the crazy roof
+admitted a sunbeam here and there—a bar of light, hazy with dancing
+motes, which transfigured wayfarers for a moment, causing the colours
+of their raiment to bloom, and fade as suddenly.
+
+Many of the traders who sat cross-legged behind the stalls bordering
+the causeway were well known to Saïd. He used his right hand to salute
+them as he passed; his left hung limp, telling the amber beads of a
+chaplet. Pleasant odours assailed his nostrils, for many vendors of
+perfumery had their shops in the lane he was threading.
+
+He was light at heart. The full tale of his fortune was to be told
+into his hands that day, and on the morrow he would dazzle Mahmud with
+a part of it. He remembered how Selìm had ever striven to dissuade
+him from taking this sure path to glory; and his lip curled with the
+blandest scorn. Selìm was a good man and pious; he could be trusted to
+the utmost at all times. But he lacked the fire and enterprise which
+exalt one above others. Calling to mind the fable of the beggar and the
+collar of gold, Saïd quaked with inward laughter. It tickled him to
+think that such a story had been told for his instruction—to him, the
+wiliest of men living.
+
+A woman, cowled and veiled, stood in the way before him, conversing
+with a tall Christian. The man was dressed in the Turkish fashion,
+with a tight vest of murrey-colour buttoned down the front, a blue
+zouave jacket, and a sack for trousers. The woman was shrouded in dull
+crimson—a common choice of colour. They blocked Saïd’s path in spite
+of the servant’s cry of “Oäh!” He observed them pretty narrowly in
+passing, thinking shame that the wife of a Muslim should converse with
+an unbelieving pig. When he was a little way beyond them the voice of
+the woman startled him. For a moment he could have sworn that it was
+Ferideh speaking. He turned sharply to look back, but the conversation
+was over and the woman lost to sight in the throng.
+
+He felt uneasy. It was the hour when Ferideh and her handmaid were wont
+to visit the bath. He had sometimes remarked upon the length of time
+she spent there, and had heard her excuses. Could it be that she was
+deceiving him? The more he thought of it the less likely it seemed. She
+had been most docile of late, fulfilling his heart’s desire gladly in
+all things. Besides Ibrahìm, the doorkeeper, was there to watch her,
+and he at any-rate was trusty; he would never suffer her to go forth
+alone. A little reflection showed his fear groundless.
+
+A loud shout to clear the way disturbed his musing. He looked and saw a
+rider drawing near, well seen above the press of foot-passengers. The
+crowd parted, making way for an old man of exceeding fatness mounted
+upon an ass, which was kept at an ambling pace by the vigorous prods of
+one who walked behind, using his staff for a goad.
+
+“May thy day be happy, O Abu Khalìl!” cried Saïd, merrily. “Whither
+away so early?”
+
+The fat taverner, who of all men was used to be most friendly to Saïd,
+for once seemed alarmed to encounter him. He returned the merchant’s
+greeting falteringly, as one aghast at some sight of terror. He neither
+reined in his steed nor showed the least wish to parley, but rather
+urged the donkey to greater speed by vicious digs with the sharp
+corners of the iron stirrups.
+
+“Cut short thy life!” cried Saïd after him. “What ails thee, old
+man? Surely thou art possessed with a devil!… Allah keep thee, O
+Camr-ud-dìn; what is amiss with thy father?”
+
+The young man stood still to scowl at the speaker. Then, seized with
+sudden anger, he threatened Saïd with his stick.
+
+“My father is a just man and honourable, and thinks shame to speak with
+a murderer!” he hissed. “Who was it that slew his father shamefully for
+the sake of gain? Thou knowest not who it was, I warrant! The blood of
+Mustafa, my father’s friend, is between us, O thou false saint!”
+
+He spat on the ground for very loathing, and so ran on to catch up the
+donkey which, curbed only by the weak hands of Abu Khalìl, was making
+sad havoc of the crowd.
+
+Saïd had shrunk back, fearing violence. For some time he strove to
+collect his wits. Roused at length by the servant’s inquiries touching
+his health, he became aware that people were staring at him.
+
+“By Allah, it is a lie!” he gasped. “May Allah strike me dead if one
+word of what the dog said is true!”
+
+The bystanders thought him raving. They murmured of compassion one to
+another. The servant took his arm respectfully to lead him home; but
+Saïd, recovering his balance, shook him off and ordered him angrily to
+lead on. He was glad to be sure that few, if any, had observed the true
+cause of his discomfiture.
+
+As he pursued his way through the shaded markets like passages in a
+vast house, he pondered the words of Camr-ud-dìn with mingled anger and
+distress. It was not hard to guess the source of the libel. Nûr had
+sworn to make him rue the day he flouted her, and this foul slander
+was undoubtedly the first-fruits of her spite. The lie was chosen with
+devilish cunning. He could by no means disprove it, for there had been
+no eyewitness to the manner of Mustafa’s death. His only course was one
+of flat and obstinate denial, and even then many were sure to think he
+spoke false.
+
+But in the very midst of gloomy forebodings a droll memory came to
+make him chuckle. He grinned broadly, and his eyes twinkled under
+brows still lowering. It had often been told him how, at the burying
+of Mustafa, Abu Khalìl had all but met his death through excess of
+mourning. The faithful have the custom to put a little soap in their
+mouths when attending a funeral, that the foam on their lips may vouch
+for the frenzy of their grief. Now Abu Khalìl, being an elderly man and
+wheezy, had managed to swallow his piece of soap at the very outset,
+before it was well melted. It had stuck in his throat, choking him; so
+that he flung himself on the ground, spitting, coughing and struggling
+in mortal terror. All those who walked with him, ascribing these antics
+to respect for the deceased, looked on admiringly; until Camr-ud-dìn,
+divining the true cause, rolled his father over and thrust a finger
+down his throat, when they saw the fun of it and fell a-quaking,
+exaggerating the gravity of their faces to mask the untimely mirth
+convulsing them.
+
+He had always felt friendly towards Abu Khalìl, and to know the old
+man’s mind estranged from him was of itself a cruel blow. He consoled
+himself, however, with the reflection that on the morrow he would be
+the peer of princes, owning a great palace, and so out of reach of the
+malice of these low people.
+
+No sooner did he arrive at the shop than all cares were drowned in
+the instant bliss of counting out a great sum of money all his own.
+His entire wealth was there before him, bestowed in leathern bags
+whose fulness was a joy to see. He abode in that upper room, drinking
+sherbet, smoking and gloating over his riches till the fall of night,
+when, with the help of Selìm and his son, he conveyed the treasure
+privately to the hiding-place prepared for it in his own house.
+The delight of possessing so much made him generous, and Selìm’s
+faithfulness was suitably rewarded. Saïd sat late upon the house-top
+that night, looking out over the city and up at the moon, a great pride
+choking him and bringing tears to his eyes.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+The moon was near the full. The city, precise in clear light and velvet
+shadow, seemed a fantasy of carven stone with its domes great and
+little, graceful minarets tapering like spindles, and the jutting cubes
+of its upper chambers. Seen thus from above, it had no life save that
+which the glow from some high lattice hinted, or a group of black forms
+motionless upon some terraced roof. The half-circle of the hills closed
+the distance, as it were the dark rim of a cup filled to the brim with
+moonlight.
+
+Saïd’s eyes strayed from the precision of the near buildings to the
+floating mystery beyond. He was dreaming a fair dream, and the realism
+of keen outlines hurt his eyes. He sat there in the hollow of the
+night, and its silence talked with him; while the city murmured weary
+as a shell, so faintly that it seemed a hush made audible. He was alone
+with Allah: the thought hallowed his selfish ecstasy. Exultant, he
+lifted up his heart in thanksgiving to God, who had endowed Saïd the
+Fisherman with sharp wits beyond his fellows, so that, by the blessing
+of the Most High, he was now risen to be Saïd the Merchant, lord of a
+great palace, and of money enough. He hugged himself for a clever one.
+By the Coràn, there was none like him in all the world!
+
+A sound of weeping rose from within the house. It had long been
+audible, but he perceived it suddenly and with a start. It came from
+the chamber where, by his order, Hasneh was confined. She had been
+in durance except when at work ever since the day of her attack on
+Ferideh. Always she prayed to be allowed to speak with her lord, were
+it but for a minute, but Saïd had been peremptory in refusal. The voice
+of her distress broke jarringly upon his dream. His heart smote him so
+that he frowned and cursed her under his breath. The next impulse was
+to go down and speak kindly to her, to silence the one note discordant
+with his happiness. But he was mindful of his promise to Ferideh, and,
+moreover, was loth to move lest, by so doing, he should break the
+spell of his lonely musing. He contented himself with a vow to treat
+her better in the future. The new house, which would be his on the
+morrow, was roomy enough to accommodate many women. Hasneh should have
+a separate lodging in it, and, it might be, a handmaid to wait on her.
+
+Having given this sop to his conscience, he was falling again into his
+waking dream of pride, when he became conscious of a soft footfall on
+the roof behind him. Turning, he beheld Ferideh, her veil thrown back,
+coming towards him with outstretched hands.
+
+“O father of Suleyman!—O my lord!—O my dear!” she besought him. “Thou
+hast taken no food since the early morning, and now it is sleep-time.
+Thou art surely famished and faint with the fatigue of the day. Come
+down, I pray thee, and partake of that which with my own hands I have
+made ready for thee! Ever since the sunset Suleyman has been crying for
+thee—hardly could I coax him to sleep. Come now, O star of my soul,
+and delay not to take refreshment!”
+
+“Good—I come!” said her lord, brushing away the last mists of reverie
+with the back of his hand. “Allah increase thy wealth, O mother of
+Suleyman! Now, indeed, I perceive that I am hungry, though the thing
+had escaped my mind. I will gladly go down with thee into the house
+for an hour, but after I have eaten I must return hither. No sleep
+will seal my eyes this night for the care of my treasure which is here
+bestowed. Wherefore I purpose to wrap me in a cloak and abide here till
+daybreak.”
+
+“Now, of a truth, thy speech is not of wisdom,” said Ferideh, chiding,
+as she followed him down the stone flight which climbed by the wall.
+“By watching thou wilt but weary thyself to no purpose; for who is
+likely to rob thee, O light of my eyes? I alone, of all in the house,
+am privy to the secret of thy treasure, and I shall be with thee
+through the night. Nay, by Allah, if thou thinkest indeed that vigil
+must be kept, I myself will watch instead of thee. Thou hast toiled all
+the day while I have been lazy; wherefore thy servant is now the better
+fitted for this duty.”
+
+Saïd was touched by her devotion. He blessed her, but bade her speak no
+more on the subject for his mind was made up.
+
+In the best chamber of the harìm a meal was set forth on a large tray
+of brass, beside which was spread a square of carpet. There was a
+savoury mess of rice and chicken meat, another of beans fried in oil;
+a large earthen bowl brimmed with a syrup compounded of honey and the
+pressed juice of grapes, in which were whole grapes floating. Two
+loaves were there, as flat as pancakes, besides a little heap of figs,
+very tempting in their purple ripeness. At sight of these dainties
+Saïd’s hunger strengthened apace. He took stock of them, enjoying the
+foretaste, while Ferideh fetched a vessel of water, a basin and a
+napkin from the antechamber. His washings done, he crossed his legs
+upon the mat, and, leaning forward, plunged a ravenous hand into the
+mess. Ferideh waited upon him clingingly. Her fingers had a trick of
+caressing whatever they touched, of dwelling lightly for a moment as
+if reluctant to quit hold. To watch her through the open door, bending
+languidly over a brazier where coffee was stewing, lifting things
+and setting them down with that strange touch of hers, thrilled Saïd
+unaccountably.
+
+“Art thou still minded to keep lonely watch upon the house-top
+to-night?” she said archly, when, having cleared away the fragments of
+the feast, she came to nestle against him.
+
+He answered,—
+
+“Nay, by Allah; I have no mind to do aught save content thee.
+Nevertheless, after I have spent an hour at thy side and thy eyes grow
+heavy with sleep, it may well be I shall repair again to the terrace.
+Understand, O my pearl, that my mind is anxious out of all reason. And
+to watch upon the house-top in the cool night air seems better than to
+be wakeful in a narrow room.”
+
+She turned her shoulder upon him, pouting, but held her peace. His arm
+circled her lovingly. Of a sudden she started away and clapped her
+hands in childish glee.
+
+“O my dear, I have something good for thee!” she cried, “something
+sweet for thee to taste. Merciful Allah! I had quite forgotten it until
+this minute. Wait but a little and I will bring thee a glassful hither!”
+
+She ran from the room and shortly returned, carrying in her hand a
+glass filled with some amber fluid. She offered it to him.
+
+“What stuff is this?” asked Saïd, cautiously, taking the glass in his
+hand and holding it up between him and a candle which burned on the
+wooden press by the wall, so that a ray shone through it.
+
+“Know, O lord of all my doings, that I, thy servant, was idle after
+noon of this day, and I grew weary of being idle. So I called Sàadeh to
+me and took counsel what to do. And it happened, by the grace of Allah,
+that there were many figs with us in the house—of the gift of Rashìd
+the taverner, thy friend, who sent us yesterday three basketfuls. And
+it came into my mind to make a new dainty—I mean a sherbet of figs.
+So we made careful choice of the fruit and crushed it with sugar in
+a little water and set it in a pan to boil. And afterwards, when the
+mixture was cool again, we sipped and found it very good. And I said in
+my soul, O soul, my idleness has been well employed for I have devised
+a new dainty for the mouth of my beloved. Now taste, I pray, and tell
+me how thou findest!”
+
+Saïd sniffed at the contents of the glass and made a wry face.
+
+He said,—
+
+“The smell of it is not good. It is perhaps some trick thou wouldst
+put upon me for laughter’s sake. Allah grant it be no unclean thing or
+fierce drug to madden me. It were a sin to make me drink wine who am
+preparing for the pilgrimage.”
+
+But Ferideh’s gaze of stricken love reassured him. Once more he held
+the potion up to the light and looked through it.
+
+“Sherbet of figs, saidst thou? Allah have pity? Surely it cannot be.
+Figs are all too fleshy to yield clear syrup like this.”
+
+Ferideh’s voice quavered a little as she replied,—
+
+“We strained it through a piece of new muslin, and when all which would
+run through was collected, we took the cloth with what remained therein
+and wrung it out over the basin. Thus we obtained much syrup. O my dear
+lord, it is cruel to tease me so; being as if thou didst doubt my care
+for thee, which Allah forbid! I beseech thee drink and tell me: Is it
+not good?”
+
+Saïd sipped at the lip of the glass, then worked his tongue
+reflectively.
+
+“It is not unpleasant,” he admitted. “But, by my beard, I perceive no
+taste of figs in it, but rather of walnuts, I should say, or something
+of that kind. It is sweet, however, and I am fain to drink it if by so
+doing, I may pleasure thee.”
+
+At that she drew closer, with tender looks and soft speech inflaming
+him. When he had emptied and set down the glass she locked her hands
+behind his neck. She knelt close to him upon the ground, her bosom
+strained to his chest so that he felt its warmth. Her head was thrown
+somewhat back, that her eyes might look into his. The poise of her
+head, with the trail of her body along the ground, suggested a snake in
+act to strike its prey.
+
+He clasped her to him. “Allah is great!” he muttered; more as a
+convenient explosive than for any bearing the words had upon the
+case. He marvelled vaguely at the change which had taken place in her
+during the last few weeks. Formerly it had been hard to win the least
+endearment from her, but now she lavished tenderness upon him at all
+times. Once her words of love, when uttered, were spiritless, as though
+she had them by rote; now they were impassioned even beyond his own.
+Referring this new fire of hers to the circumstances attending Hasneh’s
+disgrace, he wondered that so slight a thing should have power to
+change the whole nature of a woman.
+
+She went on speaking feverishly, gazing ever into his eyes as if she
+expected something to appear there which was long in coming.
+
+A strange slumber stole upon Saïd. At first it was but a pleasant
+languor. Then he grew dizzy. Things dilated and dwindled unaccountably.
+He heard himself murmur, “O garden of my delight!” … and then all was a
+blank. He knew no more until he awoke in broad daylight to find Selìm
+bending over him with an anxious face.
+
+“What is the hour?” he inquired drowsily, putting a hand to his
+forehead. There was pain like a keen dagger in either temple.
+
+“It is near noon, O my brother,” said his henchman with a rueful grin.
+“I come from the house of Mahmud, where thou hast long been expected.
+Merciful Allah! What ails thee? Never before have I known thee lag
+abed. Know, O my master, that Mahmud Effendi is furious at thy delay.
+He believes that thou hast a set purpose to insult him. All his
+father’s house are gathered there to witness the sale. O my eyes, come
+quickly and bring the money humbly in thy hand, for they are very angry
+and would fain do thee dishonour; but the money will appease them. This
+is a strange humour of thine, to sleep on the bare floor when there is
+a fine bed at hand.”
+
+Saïd sprang to his feet and looked about him, searching every corner
+with his glance.
+
+“Where is Ferideh?” he cried distractedly.
+
+“Allah alone knows, if thou knowest not!” retorted Selìm in great
+surprise. “When I came hither it was told me that thou and she were
+together in this chamber, that the door was made fast with a key for
+a token that you would not be disturbed. Knowing what grave business
+awaited thee, I presumed to break open the door. Thine was a heavy
+sleep, O my brother, for thou heardest not the crash of it. It has
+taken me so long to waken thee that I began to be afraid, counting thee
+for dead.”
+
+Saïd did not stay to parley. Like a madman he rushed out of the room,
+through the antechamber, and up the flight of stone steps that led to
+the roof.
+
+His hiding-place had been rifled. With brutal carelessness the robber
+had omitted to replace the slab of stone. The hole lay open, quite
+empty.
+
+Saïd rent his clothes and shrieked for rage and despair. Then he ran
+down the outer steps into the court so furiously that he fell heavily
+at the bottom, striking his head upon the pavement. His cap and turban
+fell off, but he knew it not. He rose, a wild figure, with face all
+bruised and bleeding, with bare head close-shaven so that the ears
+stuck out monstrously, and ran forward shouting,—
+
+“Where is Ferideh? I command you, tell me where the lady Ferideh is!…”
+
+But the cowering servants had no tidings of her.
+
+“Where Suleyman? Where Sàadeh?”
+
+But there was no answer, only a cringing protestation of innocence from
+one and all.
+
+His brain reeled. He stretched out his hands vaguely for support, and
+with a faint cry, “Allah! Allah!” fell lifeless on the pavement.
+
+Cries of distress and horror rent the air. Selìm bent sadly over the
+form of his sworn brother. Ibrahìm the doorkeeper brought the turban
+and tarbûsh he had picked up and placed them reverently on his master’s
+head. Hasneh, who had found freedom in the general confusion, flung
+herself across the body in a passion of grief.
+
+Saïd was carried back into the chamber where he had slept so long and
+laid upon the Frankish bed which had been his pride. A leech was called
+in, who bled him freely. By the evening he was able to get up and take
+count of his misfortunes. He sat on the bare stones with torn raiment
+and ashes on his head, crying ever, “O Allah, have pity!… O Lord, take
+my life also!” so that men wept to hear him.
+
+By the evening, too, his story was known throughout the city. Men
+thronged to see but the house of a man who had lost his wealth and
+wife and son in a single night; and Ibrahìm the doorkeeper became a
+person of great importance. Saïd the Merchant and Ayûb the Prophet were
+commonly named in the same breath together; and vows of vengeance were
+freely made against the man, whatsoever his quality, who had caused
+this great wrong to be done in the city.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+Selìm, quite distraught with grief for his master’s adversity, sought
+the Wâly, the chief of the police, the Mufti, and whomsoever of the
+great men of the city he thought could succour him. For two days he
+knew no rest, but was ever on the run from his own lodging to the
+Seraï or the castle, and back again to Saïd’s house. His efforts were
+not in vain. Seeing that the whole city was moved by the outrage, the
+authorities were strenuous in their endeavours to find the culprits. A
+description of Ferideh and her child, with such conjectures as to the
+appearance of her paramour as could be formed from what Hasneh had to
+tell, were sent post-haste to Beyrût and Hama, to Tarabulus, to Homs,
+to Haleb, and to various out-posts on the desert frontier. Thoughts of
+the great sum of money the criminals had with them turned each sleepy
+official to a hungry wolf. They were certain to be taken, the head of
+the irregular troops told Saïd; it was a question of a few days at the
+most. He boasted that he had made the whole country a net for them,
+and waited but a sign to haul in and take them fast in its toils. His
+confidence was of great comfort to Saïd, the more so that he could
+appreciate the metaphor. He vowed the half of his wealth to those who
+should recover it for him; and he cried night and day upon the name of
+Allah, with lamentation and every kind of self-abasement, so that all
+men marvelled at his piety.
+
+At first, as has been said, the Government was very eager in pursuit of
+the offenders, sparing no pains to ensure their capture. But by-and-by,
+when many days had passed and all search proved fruitless, zeal began
+to flag. It was said that the criminals were clean gone out of the
+country, or else they must surely have been taken, with the hue-and-cry
+raised everywhere. If it was Allah’s will that they should escape,
+where was the use in further bothering about them? The man Saïd was
+left penniless, or nearly so; and that is an ill day’s work which is
+done for thanks only.
+
+The ruined merchant went from house to house, from public office
+to public office, exhorting, entreating, urging the need of fresh
+exertions. But, bringing nothing with him, he met with deafness. He
+found high officials dozing frankly over narghilehs, and came away
+disheartened, bemoaning his lot, to return on the morrow and get angry
+words. Doors were closed against him. Those in authority refused to see
+him any more, and he fared no better with the underlings, having no
+money to give.
+
+Weary and heartsick, he at length gave up all hope of redress, and
+turned his mind to the ordering of his affairs. This was no easy
+matter, for the waste of the household had been great. Saïd, though
+shrewd and even stingy in all business concerns, was fond of display
+as tending to his own aggrandisement, and this passion he had of late
+indulged to the utmost. His infatuation, too, with Ferideh had cost
+him a pretty penny. Debts of long standing, which had been trifles
+overlooked in the day of prosperity, were heavy burdens now that
+there was nothing to meet them. And the creditors clamoured for their
+money—the whole sum of it; they would not hear of a compromise.
+
+The house was his until the end of the year; but, empty and dismantled,
+it was a gloomy dwelling-place, having a dismal echo of bygone joys.
+He saw himself obliged to sell all that was best of the furniture, and
+the superfluity of rich clothing he had purchased in his grandeur. He
+dismissed the servants, all save Ibrahìm, the doorkeeper, who refused
+to leave, having grown attached to the house and taking great blame to
+himself for the flight of Ferideh, but stayed on without care of wages.
+He was reduced to beggary, without even the collar of gold of Selìm’s
+parable to distinguish him from others in the same plight. More than
+once it had entered his mind to steal away to the coast, and take ship,
+he cared not whither. But he thought himself a marked man. For aught
+he knew, there were spies set to watch his every movement. He dreaded
+that mysterious net of which the Chief of Police had told him, and,
+dreading, stayed to face his creditors. But the tale of his distress
+is not all told. There would have been some satisfaction in haunting
+the taverns of the city and dinning the tale of his misfortunes into
+all men’s ears. The horrified “Ah!” and uplifted hands of his listeners
+would have stroked his vexed soul soothingly. But even this dismal
+gratification was denied him. A story, whose source he guessed too
+surely, began to pass from mouth to mouth. It was commonly said that
+Saïd—who now, for the first time since his rise, began to be known as
+the Fisherman—had obtained his money in the confusion of the great
+slaughter by murdering an old man and a pious Muslim, his adopted
+father. Men looked askance at him in the markets. In vain did Selìm
+speak everywhere on his master’s behalf, giving the lie direct to evil
+tongues; the voice of slander was silenced only in his presence, and
+the rumour gained ground until all men knew it. Many of Saïd’s old
+acquaintances drew aside their raiment and passed him with averted
+faces. Mahmud Effendi, who had paid him a formal visit of condolence in
+the early days of his downfall, when all men pitied him, now rode by
+him in the street with scarcely an acknowledgment of his low obeisance.
+He skulked like a dog through the streets, seeing knowledge and belief
+of the rumour in all eyes.
+
+His sole resort in those days was the tavern of Rashìd without the
+city walls. There he was always welcome to what refreshment he chose,
+and no word of the libel was ever uttered in his hearing. Selìm, too,
+took care that he should want for nothing, but provided for his needs
+secretly, through Hasneh, without himself appearing as the giver.
+
+The month of Ramadan came; and Saïd, in awe of the strong hand which
+had laid him low, disposed himself to fast as he had never fasted
+before. All day long he abode in the house, touching neither bite
+nor sup, praying by turns and lamenting his evil day. He entered
+willingly into conversation with no one, lest, beguiled into a moment’s
+forgetfulness, he should swallow his spittle, and so break his fast
+according to the vow he had taken.
+
+One evening, towards the close of the sacred month, he sat upon the
+house-top, waiting for the gun to be fired. The sun was set, and the
+light in the sky was as the fire of precious stones—a light apart from
+sun, moon or stars. The first dusk of night gathered upon the fasting
+city. Saïd’s heart expired in prayer to Allah, for the stress of thirst
+and hunger was almost more than he could bear. Hasneh crouched near
+him, watching him patiently with tender eyes. Thus she would sit all
+the day through, grateful for a glance, a word, though it were of anger
+or impatience.
+
+The dull boom of a cannon shook the whole city, echoing like far-off
+thunder from the encircling hills; and immediately, as if by magic,
+lights appeared in the galleries of the high minarets, about the domes
+of the mosques, and in every window. The fast of Ramadan was ended with
+the day, and the feast of Ramadan would endure through the night.
+
+“Praise be to Allah!” murmured Saïd with a mighty gulp. He took a
+cigarette which lay beside him on the roof, set it between his lips
+and lighted it, while Hasneh fetched meat and drink from within the
+house. He ate ravenously and drank half a pitcherful of water. With
+what remained he washed himself and then performed his devotions,
+facing south, with eyes that seemed to see the holy place of Mecca, so
+rapt was their look. Then, with a brief word of thanks to Hasneh, he
+descended to the courtyard and passed out into the streets.
+
+On all hands there was music and laughter, the sounds of feasting and
+all manner of savoury smells. The illuminations of lamps and candles
+in every dwelling made the ways nearly as bright as in the day-time.
+Wherever shadow was, thither slunk the dogs which, with the vultures,
+keep Ramadan all the year round. In passing the open door of a tavern
+he heard words which staggered him.
+
+“Where is the son of Mustafa, since thou sayest he had a son? Why
+does he delay to avenge his father’s death? This Saïd has thriven too
+long by the profits of his crime. ‘I mounted him behind me, and lo,
+he has put his hands in the saddle-bags’—thou knowest the proverb.
+Thanklessness is common in the world, but to slay a benefactor is
+surely the blackest of crimes. It is for the son of Mustafa to
+stand forth and claim his life or the blood-money. Where is he, O
+Camr-ud-dìn? He must be a coward or a scoundrel to tarry so long!”
+
+The voice of Camr-ud-dìn was uplifted in answer, but Saïd did not wait
+to hear what he said. He hurried on his way, a prey to this new fear.
+Through all these years it had escaped his memory that Mustafa had a
+son, Mansûr, begotten of his own body. He trembled. It was time that he
+shook the dust of Es-Shâm from his feet for ever.
+
+As he made his way through the crowd in a bright bazaar he was aware of
+the unfriendly looks of many, and could have sunk into the ground for
+shame. To avoid recognition he crept along by the wall, yet even thus
+men’s eyes found him out and followed him.
+
+Said one, “What shall be done to him who slew his father? O lord! Shall
+he not be stoned to death?”
+
+“Nay, hold thy hand!” quoth another in a tone of rebuke; “the thing is
+not proven against him.”
+
+Saïd hurried on in deadly fear. If he could only win clear of the
+more populous streets he might reach the gardens without danger of
+molestation. He caught sight of a group of young men whom he knew
+for his enemies. They were of ill repute in all the city for their
+wildness. To them it were as light a thing to stone a man to death as
+to pelt a dog or mob a Jew for pastime. They stood together before
+the blazing stall of a sweet merchant, barring his way. He turned
+with intent to flee, and, in doing so, ran against an old man, richly
+apparelled, who had that moment issued from a doorway. In great
+confusion, Saïd blurted out a form of apology. The sheyk’s green turban
+proclaimed him a holy man, and his dress bespoke him some great one
+high in honour. He turned swiftly to look at Saïd, and revealed the
+white beard and kindly face of Ismaìl Abbâs, the Sherìf. He smiled at
+the encounter.
+
+“Peace on thee, O fisherman,” he said courteously. “How is thy health?
+And how do thy nets fare all this long time that thou hast neglected
+them? Whither goest thou?”
+
+Saïd was bowed almost to the ground.
+
+“Allah keep thee in safety, O Emìr! I was going to the tavern of
+Rashìd, which is on the river-bank, but I have many enemies—Allah
+witness, they have no cause to hate me!—and the way is hardly safe for
+me to go thither. It was in the act to turn back that I ran against thy
+Worship, may Allah pardon me the rudeness!”
+
+Ismaìl Abbâs cast a shrewd glance round upon the bystanders. Many
+had stayed to observe this meeting of saint and sinner in the public
+street, and amazement, not unmixed with concern, was written on their
+faces. The holy man took Saïd’s hand to lead him, saying loudly,—
+
+“Now, by my beard, thou goest not to the tavern of Rashìd, nor anywhere
+else, but home with me to partake of the feast which I have caused to
+be spread for my friends.”
+
+It was as if the Prophet himself had taken Saïd by the hand and said,
+“This is a friend of mine: vex him at your peril.” All whom they passed
+in the way made low reverence to the great and saintly man, and Saïd
+had a part in their greetings. Of all the dwellers in Damashc-ush-Shâm,
+Ismaìl Abbâs was esteemed most highly, both on account of his great
+learning and righteousness, and for his family, which was among the
+noblest of the city. To be seen walking with him, holding his hand as
+a bosom friend, did more to establish Saïd’s innocence in the minds of
+the populace than any number of witnesses in a court of law. When at
+length they gained a quiet place, Saïd burst out weeping, and would
+have prostrated himself to kiss his saviour’s feet had not that good
+man prevented him.
+
+“Nay, Allah forbid that thou shouldst fall down before me!” said Ismaìl
+Abbâs, a little testily. “If thou hast anything to be thankful for,
+give praise where praise is due. I have done no more for thee than I
+would have done for a dog in distress; for the very dogs have living
+souls, as some have said.”
+
+He led Saïd on by quiet ways, and, as they went, he asked him strange
+questions out of all reason; as,—
+
+“Hast thou a wife left to thee in the day of thy misfortune?”
+
+“There remains to me my old woman, O Emìr—she who was with me from the
+beginning, the first that ever I had.”
+
+“Then be kind to her, as thou regardest thy salvation. Remember that,
+in the last day, the weak shall take their vengeance upon the strong,
+the unarmed upon the armed, the unhorned cattle upon the horned cattle.
+For Allah is just, and in the end He will make the balance level.”
+
+And again,—
+
+“Thou that art a fisherman, and knowest the ways of the sea, tell me,
+What does a mariner when shipwrecked on the coast of his own country?”
+
+Saïd reflected a minute, supposing it had been a riddle.
+
+“By my beard, I suppose that he will praise Allah, and then he will
+return with speed to his own place.”
+
+“Good,” replied the great man; “the case is thine. A while ago thou
+didst set out in the hope to gain honour; but now behold thou art
+shipwrecked. Out of thy mouth I counsel thee, Take thy woman with
+thee and go home, return to thy native place and to thy fishing, and
+perchance we shall find thee money wherewith to buy nets and a house.”
+
+This advice did not please Saïd. He dreaded the triumph of Abdullah,
+who must by this time be among the greatest of his native town.
+However, he said nothing openly to his benefactor, but feigned to fall
+in gladly with the plan.
+
+At the house of Ismaìl Abbâs there was much company, for the host was
+renowned for hospitality, and many loved him. All present used Saïd
+friendly, wishing him a blessed feast, and not scorning to sit at meat
+with him. Throughout the night there was good cheer and the wisest
+discourse; for above all things save piety, Ismaìl Abbâs prized wisdom
+and learning, and his friends were chosen for their qualities rather
+than wealth or rank. Towards morning, when men rose to go, the Sherìf
+took Saïd apart to speak with him alone. He advised him strongly to
+go back to his first trade of a fisherman. Es-Shâm was full of his
+enemies, an evil story being current there concerning him. He (Ismaìl)
+had judged it false from the first; and yet many were found to put
+faith in it. It behoved Saïd to leave the city as soon as the sacred
+month should expire.
+
+This last counsel fell in timely with the fisherman’s own wishes, and
+he promised humbly to follow it. Then, having received his host’s
+blessing, and a handsome present of money wherewith to buy nets and a
+house, Saïd took his leave, kissing his patron’s hand repeatedly, and
+calling upon Allah to reward his kindness.
+
+It wanted but four hours of daybreak and the sounds of revelry were
+growing faint and rare. Many of the candles had guttered and gone out,
+and those which remained burned dimly and awry. The stars resumed their
+sway and a slumbrous calm wrapped the city. There would be peace now
+until an hour before sunrise, when most men would rise and eat again,
+to fortify themselves against the long day’s fast. Saïd met several
+parties wending homeward from carousals. He himself went not home, but
+to the dwelling of Selìm, where there were lights burning. The mother
+of Mûsa opened to his knocking. She peered hard at him. “Praise be
+to Allah!” she cried, flinging up her hands. “Deign to enter, O my
+lord! It is indeed the master! Come, O Selìm! Behold, his Eminence is
+restored to us in safety. Know, O Effendi, that Selìm has been greatly
+troubled this night on thy account, because thou camest not to the
+tavern of Rashìd though he sat there long awaiting thee. He feared some
+evil had befallen thee; but now we behold thee safe, thanks to Allah!”
+
+Selìm rushed forward with the like expressions of joy and gratitude. It
+was some time before Saïd could make himself heard, for the stir of his
+entrance had awakened the children, who screamed and roared in chorus.
+But at last, by the exertions of Mûsa and his mother, the din subsided,
+and he said,—
+
+“After five days I leave Es-Shâm for ever, and Hasneh with me. By the
+grace of Allah, I have now a little money with which we shall journey
+to the sea-coast, and there take ship, I care not whither, so that it
+be far from this city of falsehood.”
+
+Selìm received the news with a cheerful face.
+
+“It is but a minute since I spoke to the same purpose,” he said; “is
+it not so, O mother of Mûsa? Of a truth, since thy ruin this city
+displeases me and, thanks to thee under Allah, I am well provided
+with money, which can serve us both. I thought to go into Masr—what
+sayest thou? I have a brother who migrated thither in the time of
+Ibrahìm Basha, when Masr was as one country with Es-Shâm. He is well
+established in the city of Iskendería, and from time to time he sends
+a word to me by travelling merchants. He declares it to be a pleasant
+land, favourable for every kind of trade. We will journey together, by
+thy leave; Allah grant us a safe voyage and prosperity in the end!”
+
+At that Saïd seized both hands of his friend and kissed them, blessing
+Selìm for a good man and a faithful—none like him in all the world!
+
+So it came to pass, one early morning, that Saïd and Hasneh left the
+great city, in the company of Selìm and all his family, by the same
+road which Saïd had followed at his coming, nearly twelve years before.
+At the brow of the hill, beside the shrine which is there, they turned
+to look their last upon that place of gardens. Saïd’s eyes brooded long
+and lovingly over it, as though it had been indeed the early paradise
+he was leaving; and it was with a choking voice that at last he bade
+Selìm lead on.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+The little company journeyed but slowly, for the sake of the women and
+children. The weather was hot and breathless, as it often is at the
+extreme end of summer, when the air begins to grow heavy with the first
+storm. Selìm had provided two donkeys to carry the baggage, and also
+to give a spell of rest to anyone who grew weary. One bore the weight
+of his household treasures, and his wife with her young baby rode upon
+it when she chose. Saïd generally bestrode the other, which was laden
+with his goods, while Hasneh walked meekly beside; though sometimes,
+feeling the need to stretch his legs, he would alight and bid her take
+his place for a time. Often he would take up one of Selìm’s children to
+ride with him; and Selìm himself, with Mûsa, made shift to carry the
+others when they tired.
+
+At first their way lay through mountains, barren and treeless, except
+for certain favoured nooks, where there was water and deep shade of
+fruit-trees. Through the heat of the day the landscape seemed to
+bronze, so massive it was and sullen under the burning sky. A rare
+terebinth, growing high up among the cliffs, was rusty black, and cast
+a shadow uncouth as the rocks themselves. But in the early morning,
+what with the young sunlight and the dewy shade, every boulder had a
+charm and freshness of its own, so that the little band sang blithely
+at setting out. And towards sundown, when the peaks were all purple and
+gold, and the level spaces coloured like flower-beds, they drank in the
+coolness of the evening with sighs of relief.
+
+They crossed the plain called El Bica’a, with its scattered villages,
+and all through one afternoon they moved along in the growing shadow
+of Lebanon. Ere noon of the next day they paused on the crest of the
+mountain and beheld the coast-plain far below them languishing in a
+haze of heat. The sea beyond was like a burnished sheet of silver.
+Saïd’s heart leapt at the familiar sheen of it, but the sight brought
+no enduring pleasure. His native land was very dear to his soul now
+that the time drew near when he must quit it. They were now on the
+Sultàn’s highway—a great white coach-road, the work of a Frankish
+company, whose zigzag windings could be traced as a wan and crumpled
+ribbon down all the mountain-side. Carriages dashed past them, filled
+for the most part with Christians in semi-Frankish dress, forcing the
+group of wayfarers to the roadside, blinding and choking them with a
+cloud of dust.
+
+The sun was near his setting when they reached the level of the plain.
+On all sides there were gardens plumed with date-palms, and fine stone
+dwellings bosomed in leafage. Seaward, across the plantations, loomed
+a dark belt of pines. A flight of bee-eaters wheeling in the flush
+of sunset seemed like dead leaves the sport of a wind. The road lay
+straight before them, stained with sunset light. There was much people
+in carriages and on horseback—townsfolk of Beyrût—come forth to taste
+the sweets of evening. Shadows were long and grey-blue to eastward.
+
+The sight of the palm-trees and the diffused fragrance moved Saïd
+deeply. He knew that the sea was at hand—the sea which he had known
+from babyhood, whose voice was a home voice to him. Yet at that time he
+loathed the thought of it, his heart yearning to the sweet gardens and
+the peaceful life of a husbandman.
+
+Weary and footsore they entered the city of Beyrût, and it seemed to
+Saïd that he was already in a strange land. The Frankish garb was
+almost as common in the streets as the dress of the country, and four
+men out of every five he saw were Christians. He had been there once
+before on an errand of commerce, but the foreign character of the town
+had not struck him then as now. Nearly all the houses had red-tiled
+roofs, and the shops were of a pattern unfamiliar to him. The streets
+were wide and ablaze with lights. Wheeled carriages, each drawn by a
+pair of horses and driven by one who sat aloft with frenzied shouting
+and cracking of a whip, were frequent here though in the capital they
+were still esteemed a fine rarity. He began to be afraid for the
+future. If he felt thus lonely in a seaport town of his own country,
+how could he bear to dwell in a foreign land? He made his uneasiness
+known to Selìm, who bade him be of good cheer, for that Beyrût stood
+alone, the lord of all the world for iniquity and unbelief. In Masr
+he would find it quite otherwise; there the faithful outnumbered the
+infidels as ten to one.
+
+Selìm was well acquainted with the city, having often visited it in
+the days when he was a muleteer. He led his company by quiet and
+tortuous ways to the Muslim quarter, where there was less of a foreign
+appearance to trouble Saïd. They took their lodging at a khan which
+overlooked an ancient burying-ground tufted with black cypresses. Hard
+by was a mosque whose squat, ungainly minaret stood up against the last
+green of evening. An owl hooted in some bush of the graveyard. The
+place had a wistful sadness in the gathering night.
+
+After they had washed and prayed, Saïd and Selìm took Mûsa with them to
+the guest-chamber, where they ate apart, the women being entertained
+elsewhere in the house by their own kind. The room was filled with
+men of all conditions, from the rich merchant with his saddle-bags
+beside him to the servant who sat or rose at his master’s nod, and the
+muleteer squatting shamefaced by the door. A portly man of middle age
+sat with his back against the wall, sucking luxuriously at a narghileh.
+His bright, shifty eyes were keenly observant of all that went on.
+He looked earnestly at Saïd and watched him all the while he was
+eating. At length, when the coffee was brought, he coiled the tube and
+mouthpiece about the vessel of his pipe and crossed the room.
+
+“Peace be upon thee, O Saïd, O my dear!” he said heartily. “Allah be
+praised that I behold thy face once more! How is thy health? If Allah
+will, it is the best possible!”
+
+Surprised by the warmth of this greeting in a place where he was a
+stranger, Saïd eyed the man narrowly as he rose in acknowledgment.
+Surely it could not be!—And yet, who else?… In dismay and amazement he
+recognised his sometime friend and partner, Abdullah the fisherman. He
+stepped aside with him.
+
+“How goes thy business all this long time, O father of Azìz?” he asked,
+when the perfunctory compliments had given him time to recover from the
+shock of the encounter.
+
+“Praise be to Allah, not ill; I cannot complain, for I am now high in
+honour in our city. It is a small city—that is true—but what eminence
+may be attained therein I have attained. There is talk of recommending
+me to the Mutesarrif to be Caimmacàm, when the time comes to make a
+change. Of a truth, if they choose me not I know not of whom they will
+make choice, for there is none in all those parts to vie with me in
+wealth and consequence.”
+
+He bragged with assurance, but his dress belied his words, for he was
+meanly clad.
+
+“As for thee, O my soul, how fares it with thee?” he inquired in his
+turn.
+
+“By the grace of Allah, I thrive,” said Saïd, casting up his eyes
+fervently. “By the Coràn, I am happiest of men. All that belongs to
+wealth and honour and prosperity is mine, and I am risen to the supreme
+height of my desire. And behold all this is come to me because of that
+foul trick thou didst play me years ago, O sly robber that thou art!”
+
+“Whoever robbed thee it was not I—Allah be my witness! No, by my
+beard, it was some other, and that a devil in all likelihood,” murmured
+Abdullah, blandly, as if disclaiming an honour one would thrust on him.
+“But say, where dwellest thou, O my eyes?”
+
+“In Es-Shâm—in the great city, O my dear, where I own a fine house
+such as a prince might envy. By Allah, I am become a great one in that
+city, which is the first of all cities in the world. All the notables
+are my friends, and the Wâly himself disdains not to seek my advice in
+the affairs of state. Allah is bountiful!”
+
+“Allah is bountiful indeed,” said Abdullah, regarding Saïd with a new
+interest. “But tell me, art thou that Saïd the Merchant whose name is
+in all men’s mouths?”
+
+“I am in truth that great one,” was the reply; “but I know not what
+thing thou hast heard, for many lies are spoken concerning me.”
+
+“Listen, and thou shalt hear all I know. It is but a few hours since
+I met one who was just returned from the country of Rûm. And in that
+country he heard the story of Saïd, a merchant of Damashc-ush-Shâm,
+who was robbed by the woman whom most he favoured. She caused him
+to drink a potion wherein was a strong drug, pretending that it was
+a sherbet of figs. Her lover, a young Nazarene of the same city, is
+cunning in pharmacy, having studied here in Beyrût and also among the
+Franks to become a chemist. It is he who gave her the drug and taught
+her how to administer it. Her lord trusted her in all things, and she
+was in the secret of his wealth, so she robbed him easily of all that
+he had, and took her little son and fled away with that Nazarene while
+he slept. The cunning of the Christian—may Allah destroy him!—had
+caused him to make himself a French subject long ago, in the year of
+the great slaughter when all was confusion. He had a passport and
+Frankish clothes in waiting. To make more sure, the dragoman of the
+consulate—who was the son of his aunt on the mother’s side—journeyed
+with them in the public coach to this city, where the people of the
+custom-house, supposing them to be Franks, let them pass unquestioned,
+the child with them. They tell me this Nazarene hates the child, which
+is natural, being the work of another than himself. He would fain be
+rid of the burden, but the woman will not part with it. So they took
+ship and came at last to the country of Rûm, where they now dwell in
+the largest city, in the best manner, with all luxury. Their story is
+known to all men, and the laugh is ever against Saïd the Merchant of
+Damashc-ush-Shâm …. The Christians are all wild beasts, by Allah—foul
+and wicked things, unclean and accurst. But surely thou art not the man
+they tell of? Allah forbid! It is impossible!”
+
+All this was bitter as death to Saïd. His teeth and hands clenched. For
+a moment he thought of nothing but to pursue those two who had wronged
+him over sea and land, to slay them, if it might be, in each other’s
+arms. He saw his son attired as a Christian, despised and ill-treated
+by the pig, his enemy. He gnashed his teeth with the knowledge that
+men made mock of him, that his name was become a byword of scoffing to
+unbelievers in distant lands. But he swallowed the gall of his anguish
+as best he could. When he spoke it was with a scornful countenance.
+
+“O my eyes, a part of thy tale is true, but not all. That son of a pig,
+that Christian of whom thou tellest did certainly carry off a woman
+of mine, but what is that?—I can afford to replace her. As for the
+child, I have been concerned for him, but now that I know whither they
+are gone I will inform the Government, and it shall go ill with me but
+I will recover him. The woman did in truth rob me of a sum of money;
+but she was not fully in my confidence. There were two hoards, thou
+understandest, hidden in two separate places. She mistook the lesser
+for the greater, and so, far from being ruined, as she fondly supposed,
+I am now, by the blessing of Allah, even more prosperous and higher in
+honour than I was before. Allah is just!”
+
+“Praise be to Allah!” said Abdullah, feelingly. “I rejoice with thee”;
+and upon that he wished Saïd a happy night and withdrew, saying that
+he must hie to bed, as he was to start betimes on the morrow on his
+journey home. So these two, so long asunder, met once more on friendly
+terms and lied freely one to the other, neither doubting his fellow’s
+words.
+
+Saïd slept ill that night. Divers projects turned in his brain,
+distracting him. Every forward course seemed grievous, fraught with
+danger. There was but one bright point in all his weary musings as
+he tossed to and fro upon his pallet—the face of a girl he had seen
+once in a garden—an English girl and mistress to the son of a pig, a
+dragoman. He recalled all that he had heard of the land of the English,
+and ever he swore, with Allah’s leave, he would contrive to go there
+ere he died.
+
+Selìm was abroad early in the morning, for there was much to be done,
+and in his loving care for his former master he took all charge of it
+upon himself. First, he visited sundry taverns and places of resort,
+publishing the news that he had two fine donkeys for sale. By the third
+hour there was a small crowd gathered at the stable, and the sale, when
+it took place, was in the nature of an auction, one man bidding above
+another. When that was done and the beasts had been led away by their
+purchasers, Selìm betook himself to the Seraï to get permission to
+leave the country, and have the passports put in order. He was so long
+absent on this business that Saïd, who waited him at the khan, began
+to be uneasy. When at last he did return, the expression of his face
+was woebegone in the extreme. Saïd cried out in alarm to know what was
+amiss. Whereupon the faithful fellow wrung his hands, and tears rolled
+down his cheeks.
+
+“O Saïd! O my brother! Allah be my witness, I have striven long with
+prayer and argument to turn their hearts; but in vain. Ah, woe is me,
+to be the bearer of such ill tidings! Know, O my beloved, that the men
+of the Government gave me free leave to depart with my family; as thou
+knowest, I have a letter which Ismaìl Abbâs—may Allah requite his
+honour!—procured for me from the Wâly. But thee they will by no means
+suffer to quit the land, both because thou hast no such letter, and
+for some other cause which is hid from me. All my entreaties, all my
+reasons were unavailing; thou art forbidden to travel further by order
+of the Government.”
+
+Fear came into Saïd’s eyes as he heard. Heretofore the Government
+had seemed to him remote as the sky is, something impassive, neither
+friend nor foe. He had stood in the same vague awe of it that a simple
+man has of some mighty engine whose working is a mystery to him. Now
+that he suddenly found it his enemy, the shock was like an earthquake
+destroying old landmarks. He remembered the dark net of which the Chief
+of Police had spoken, and felt himself already caught in its meshes.
+
+“I must leave the country, and that at once!” he muttered fearfully.
+“In the old days I was known for a strong swimmer. Say, O Selìm, is
+there no ship far out in the bay, beyond call of the Custom House, to
+which I can swim by night?”
+
+“There is an English ship, O my brother—a steamer which comes hither
+at times with merchandise. She will depart, they tell me, to-morrow
+after sunrise. She lies to-night in the bay, but far out; thou couldst
+hardly swim so far. If thou trustest indeed to escape by swimming, wait
+two days, I pray thee, until our steamer arrives, so we may yet journey
+together.”
+
+Saïd caught at the words “an English ship.” In a flash he had a
+vision of fair forms, and faces full of love, in a light subdued and
+gentle—the light, as he conceived it, of cloudy Lûndra. The next
+moment he was reminded of the woman who was a clog upon him, and he
+broke out fretfully,—
+
+“There is Hasneh, … O Lord!… How may I be rid of Hasneh? I must escape
+at once; this very night I must swim out to the English steamer, and
+she alone hinders me.”
+
+Selìm heard him with mild surprise.
+
+“She will go with me to Masr, as was at first arranged,” he said
+soothingly. “Let thy mind have rest concerning her. My passport is so
+worded that she may journey with us unquestioned. The mother of Mûsa
+will be glad to have her company in a strange land, for they love one
+another, and Hasneh is very skilful in all housework. Be assured, O my
+brother! By Allah’s leave, thou shalt find her safe when thou rejoinest
+us yonder. But alas! how can I part from thee, O my soul! As long as
+I live I am thy servant, for the sake of the kindness thou hast ever
+shown me, from the day thou didst give me that rich garment, the root
+of my honour, to this hour. Couldst thou not swim as well to one ship
+as to another? and what are two days that they should have power to
+ruin thee? I will find out some private place where thou mayst be
+snugly hid. Allah forbid that ever I should part from thee!”
+
+But a great unreasoning fear possessed Saïd, and nothing which Selìm
+could say might change his purpose. The father of Mûsa blubbered like
+a baby. Saïd himself was deeply moved, but otherwise, the dread of
+this instant peril swaying him. Moreover, a thought of the fair ones
+awaiting him in that distant land of the English helped somewhat
+to soften the parting on his side. He spent the rest of daylight
+in preparing for his venture. By the agency of Selìm he procured a
+stout leathern bag of handy size, wherein he stowed all such of his
+belongings as seemed indispensable. Of the things which remained over
+he gave some to Hasneh and some to Selìm, according to their nature and
+use. Towards evening Selìm went forth to make inquiries, whilst Saïd
+did somewhat to comfort Hasneh. After a very little while he came back
+in a hurry, and with a face full of concern.
+
+“It may not be, O my brother,” he said, “thou canst by no means swim
+to the steamer. Know that there has lately been much emigration—of
+Christians for the most part, and Drûz out of the mountain. It is their
+custom to do even as thou purposedst; and to check the tide of them,
+a watch is set upon the beach at night with orders to fire on all who
+take the water. Allah have pity! I know not what is to be done.”
+
+Saïd paced the paved yard of the khan, raging like a hunted beast at
+bay, while Hasneh, in hopes that she might not lose him after all,
+sobbed with relief. At length he stopped short in his prowl, and,
+lifting hands and eyes to heaven, “Allah succour me!” he muttered
+fiercely. “I will take the risk of it.”
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+About an hour after sundown Saïd took a sad farewell of his friends,
+and, all alone, went forth to the shore. He wore an ample cloak of
+haircloth to conceal the leathern sack he carried. As he made his
+way through the concourse of the streets his heart thumped so loudly
+against his ribs that he thought all men not deaf to hear it. On the
+sea-beach, where the din of the city mingled as a distant murmur with
+the sigh of the ripples, the clamour of it filled his brain.
+
+The wide bay lay smooth and glassy, fringed along the shore with points
+of yellow light shining among dark forms of trees and bushes. The
+mountains rose in outline beyond, ending seaward in a bluff promontory,
+the lights of many villages plainly seen upon the nearer slopes. A
+dusky gloom was on all the land—the velvet of a moth’s wings. The
+lamps of the shipping had dancing pendants in the water.
+
+Saïd tried to seem careless, as if he strolled for pleasure. It was
+dark and he met no one after he had won clear of the town; but his
+fancy peopled every wall and garden, every shrub of tamarisk to
+landward, with soldiers on the look-out; and in spite of all his
+endeavours the manner of his going betrayed uneasiness. The cry of a
+mariner wafted across the still water was startling, as if one had
+called him by name.
+
+He could see the English steamer, a dark mass, with a funnel and
+three masts, lying motionless a good way out. A red light in the bows
+shed a sparkle of rubies in the near water. He strove to judge of the
+distance, seeking that part of the shore which would most favour his
+project.
+
+A ruined wall ran out a little way on to the sand. On the side remote
+from the town he sat down and strove to think. A great pulse throbbed
+in his brain, so that his whole frame was shaken with it. The sea and
+the lights and the mountains swam before his eyes; the very wall seemed
+to rock as he leaned against it. The sharp yelp of a dog among the
+gardens rang bewilderingly in his ears.
+
+At length, his mind growing clearer, he lighted a cigarette and smoked
+it to the end. Then he got up and took off his garments one by one,
+throwing some away, and binding others with a sash to the well-filled
+leather-bag. When he was naked he sat down again, and, holding the
+bundle pressed on his cap and turban, set to work to lash it to his
+head with strips torn from his cast-off raiment. By vigorous shaking he
+made sure it was quite firm, then he stole to the end of the wall and
+peered cautiously forth.
+
+Two men were approaching—soldiers with rifles on their shoulders.
+The wall alone had prevented him from hearing their voices. The place
+he had chosen was sheltered and convenient for keeping watch upon the
+shore to northward. It was most likely that they were making for it.
+There was not a second to be lost.
+
+With a bound he ran swiftly across the sand and splashed in the water,
+dropping at once on his hands and knees. He heard a shout, followed in
+the same minute by the report of a gun. A shot whizzed past him; it
+played duck and drake along the surface, striking up little plumes of
+spray. A second followed, but it was wider of the mark, and by that
+time Saïd was out of his depth, swimming strongly. He ducked frequently
+to baffle the marksmen. A bullet, the last which was fired, hit the
+bundle and remained bedded in it.
+
+At first he struck out blindly, thinking only of his life; but
+afterwards, when the bullets ceased to whirr, he made boldly for the
+steamer, which might then have been three-quarters of a mile distant in
+a straight line. He could hear the soldiers yelling and hallooing on
+the beach, but had little fear that a boat would put out to intercept
+him, for the harbour was a long way off on the left and he had passed
+few craft in his walk along the sands. Even supposing that those in
+the guard-house on the quay heard the cries of their comrades and
+understood them, it would take them some time to get afloat; and a
+man’s head, though with a bundle lashed to it, was no easy thing to
+mark on all the wide expanse of darkling water.
+
+With the joy of his narrow escape yet full upon him he revelled in
+the freedom of the cool water. The little waves smote him friendly
+and the stars twinkled at him out of the pale sky. As a boy, it had
+been his delight to swim out, wherever a ship came to anchor off his
+native town, and perform all kinds of antics in the sea, diving for
+the coins that voyagers threw to him and catching them in his mouth as
+they sank. In those days people had marvelled at his prowess in the
+water, accounting him half a fish; and it pleased him, now that he was
+middle-aged and bulky, to know that he had still the trick of it. He
+frolicked, swimming now frogwise, now on this side, now on that. He
+turned over on his back and paddled along for a few strokes in that
+position. Then, righting himself, he splashed forward, hand over hand,
+like a dog. But ere long he grew weary of such fancies and settled down
+to a steady and enduring stroke which should carry him to his goal.
+
+The steamer was yet a pretty long way off when he began to doubt if
+he would ever reach it. The smart of the brine blurred his eyes. The
+surface of the sea seemed now all starlight, anon black as pitch. He
+was sadly out of condition and had spent the flower of his energy
+in wantoning. Wishing to husband what strength remained to him,
+he slackened speed somewhat. He grew numb. His eyes were blind to
+everything except the steamer; and that seemed very big, ten times its
+natural size, filling all the horizon. His limbs lost feeling; stern
+resolve alone upheld him and kept him moving. The ship loomed nearer
+all of a sudden. He plunged forward, floundering rather than swimming,
+his mouth and nose full of salt water at every stroke. It towered above
+him very near indeed; but all his life was gone. He knew in his heart
+that he could never reach it. The veins of his forehead were bursting,
+his eyes were very dim. All kinds of incongruous memories thronged
+his brain. “Allah is just,” he thought, “and this is the end of me.”
+But, a second later, he had caught hold of a rope which fell from the
+steamer’s prow, and hung by it, clinging for dear life.
+
+“Praise be to Allah!” he murmured, quaking from head to foot. Presently
+he raised a feeble shout. A face looked down at him, then more faces—a
+crowd of them. Questions were shouted, but he could make nothing of the
+jargon spoken. “There is much money with me!” he cried in Arabic. “I
+would go to the great city, Lûndra of the English!”
+
+At that there was a great shout of laughter, and another rope was flung
+to him, which he caught, and with which he was hauled on board. Queer
+Frankish faces grinned at him, grotesque as masks, all red and many
+quite devoid of hair. The light of a fixed lantern sufficed to show
+them to him. Rough hands smote his dripping shoulders hard in applause,
+their owners roaring with laughter. In truth, he cut an odd figure as
+he stood there stark naked and streaming wet, a great bundle bound to
+his head with strips of calico. But to Saïd it was no laughing matter.
+He sprang to anger under their blows, glaring round on them with
+curses, and showing his teeth. But they laughed all the more at his
+resentment, slapping their knees and hugging themselves for glee.
+
+The press about him gave way suddenly. A man came forward, clad in some
+sort of a uniform, with a gold badge on his cap. He spoke in a stern
+voice to the sailors and they fell back sheepishly. It seemed they made
+excuses, pointing to Saïd where he stood naked and shivering, his feet
+very conscious of the smooth planks. This man, whom Saïd took to be
+the lord of the ship, then addressed him in a childish sort of Arabic,
+asking to know what he wanted; whereupon Saïd told a grievous tale of
+tyranny and wrong, such as might justify any man in flight from his
+native land. He repeated his statement that he had plenty of money,
+adding that he would gladly pay the price of his passage to Lûndra.
+The officer eyed him doubtfully for a minute. Then, with a face of
+compassion, he gave a gruff order to one who stood near, and Saïd was
+led away to a small chamber, dim with the savoury fumes of cooking,
+where was a fire burning.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+Next morning there was a great bustle on board the steamer. Saïd awoke
+in his narrow bunk to a noise of splashing and scrubbing overhead. The
+door of the sort of cupboard where he lay stood open; now and then a
+man’s shadow darkened it in passing.
+
+It did not take long to remember where he was. The adventure of the
+previous night recurred vividly to his mind, seeming a madman’s to the
+sanity of early morning. He marvelled at the daring of it, and then,
+looking forward, his heart grew sick with forebodings. What future
+awaited him in the land of the English? It was a country favourable for
+all manner of trade, but he carried no merchandise with him. He had
+money, it was true, but when the price of his journey had been deducted
+from it only a small sum would be left. The fair women and girls, so
+easy to conquer, the chief attraction of that distant shore, seemed not
+so very desirable after all.
+
+The great red face of a mariner looked in upon him with the roar of
+some savage beast. Its grin was friendly and its appearance cheered
+Saïd somewhat, so that, when it was withdrawn, he shook off his
+listlessness and got up. As he did so, his clothes and the leathern
+bag which held his treasure fell on the floor, covering it almost
+completely, so little space was there. Being naked, he had been hurried
+to bed overnight and had quite forgotten his bundle. Someone must have
+brought the things and laid them upon him while he slept. The garments
+had the crispness of linen dried at the fire.
+
+An agony of fear seized him lest the sack should have been rifled and
+his money taken out. Naked save for his skull-cap and turban, he knelt
+down in the narrow space between wall and bunk, and with trembling
+hands loosened the mouth of the bag; but a little groping reassured
+him. He smiled, drawing forth a small but heavy pouch with a string
+attached, which he made haste to hang as an amulet about his neck;
+first shutting the door so that no one passing by could observe him.
+“Allah is bountiful!” he murmured.
+
+By the time he reached the deck the engines were panting like some huge
+beast held in leash that frets to go free. A crowd of little boats
+clung to the steamer’s side, waiting to see the last of her. Already
+the sun stood high above the ridge of Lebanon, and his beams made a
+dazzle on the dancing blue sea. The whiteness of the town, relieved by
+high red roofs, drew the eye to the southern horn of the bay, where the
+waves lapped its walls. Suburbs half hidden in foliage stretched all
+along the shore at the foot of the hills. Palm-trees rose conspicuous,
+singly and by clumps of two and three. The huge mountains, as yet in
+shadow, filled all the background, seeming very near indeed. Snow
+gleamed on the high, long crest of Jebel Sunnìn. The balm of the land
+and its murmur were wafted on the breeze.
+
+Saïd’s heart went out to his native country. The sing-song shouting
+of the sailors, the clank of a chain, the creaking swing of a
+windlass—all the noise attendant on weighing anchor sounded cruel and
+callous in his ears. It jeered him as the voice of fate made audible.
+His past was slipping from him irrevocably with every pant of the
+mighty engines, with every puff of the funnel, which began to belch
+forth dense clouds of whitish smoke that tossed seaward before it like
+the blown mane of a horse.
+
+The hiss and roar of the safety-valve ceased of a sudden. In place of
+panting there was a dull, strong throb which was felt in every plank
+and plate of the ship. The smoke from the funnel wavered a moment, as
+if doubtful which direction to take, then streamed out steadily over
+the stern, casting a ribbon of shadow on the churned-up waters in the
+wake. The little boats fell away from the side with men standing up in
+them, waving good-bye. They dwindled, were left far behind, and ever
+the throbbing grew to fuller purpose, as though the ship had a soul, an
+imprisoned jinni toiling with bitter sobs.
+
+Saïd was shortly led below to a breakfast of weird bread in which was
+no sustenance, of butter whose exceeding yellowness and bitter, saltish
+flavour filled him with distrust, of coffee such as he had never tasted
+and hoped to Allah he might never taste again. There was meat also, but
+that he would not touch, believing it to be pig’s flesh or something
+unclean. He did not dwell long upon the meal, but when he returned on
+deck the city and the shore-line had already sunk out of sight; only
+the crests of Lebanon stood up sheer out of the sea with white streaks
+of snow among them, the wake of the ship stretching, an ever-widening
+path, to their feet.
+
+For hours Saïd sat cross-legged in the lee of a cabin, watching those
+summits dwindle and grow dreamy in the distance, till at last they were
+no more than a thin cloud on the horizon. The sailors smiled and spoke
+friendly to him as they went about their work. He sat in the shade,
+with hot sunshine all about him, and the eternal lapping of a sea, dead
+blue as lapis lazuli, sounded pleasant in his ears. “O Allah! O Lord,
+have mercy!” was his soul’s bitter cry as the coasts of Es-Shâm sank
+beneath the sea-line. And yet he felt not half so wretched as he had
+expected.
+
+That night a heavy thunderstorm burst, and all the next day the sky
+was overcast with rain driving in torrents before a cold wind. It was
+the beginning of winter, and Saïd shunned the bleakness of the upper
+deck. Having paid an instalment of his passage-money in advance, he was
+looked upon with unmixed liking by the crew as an honest fellow and a
+queer customer. Yet Saïd resented the rough kindness of the sailors,
+as touching his dignity. When they smote him, as their manner was, in
+all goodwill, he would sometimes round upon them with a snarl, making
+them laugh as if their hearts would break, and seeming only to increase
+their kindness for him. They used his word, “Lûndra,” against him as
+a nickname; and at first he would nod and grin when they uttered it,
+repeating it after them until they roared. But afterwards, hearing it
+everywhere and at all hours of the day, he grew sick of the sound of it.
+
+There were two other passengers on board—men of consequence, with whom
+he had nothing to do. But one of them, a young man, with flaxen hair
+and moustache, and the bloom of a ripe peach on either cheek, had a
+smattering of Arabic and was fain to air it a little. After the storm
+was passed and the fine weather had resumed its sway, he often joined
+Saïd as he sat upon the deck and struggled to converse with him. It was
+a little hard sometimes to understand what he said, for all his verbs
+were in the imperative mood.
+
+One morning when the steamer rode at anchor off a seaport of the
+kingdom of Rûm, Saïd ventured to ask this person how long it would be
+before they reached that great city, Lûndra of the English. Looking
+out over the crisp, blue waves to a white town at the foot of violet
+mountains, with cypresses rising gaunt among its buildings and olives
+silvering all the slope behind, it seemed to him that they were yet
+a long way distant from that sunless land of which the dragoman had
+spoken.
+
+“Two weeks and more,” was the answer, “but know, O effendi, that this
+ship goes not to Lûndra but to Liverpool, which is distant from it a
+day’s journey on the iron road.”
+
+“Merciful Allah!” Saïd exclaimed. “Hear now my story, O khawaja,
+and judge between these men and me. When I asked them they told me
+that the steamer went to Lûndra, and I gave them much money on that
+understanding. Of a truth the people of this ship are all liars; there
+is no vestige of truth found in them. May their house be destroyed and
+the fire quenched on their father’s hearth!”
+
+“Nay, O effendi, they meant not to deceive thee. The country of the
+English is a small country, and the iron road brings distant places
+close together. Liverpool is reckoned the haven of Lûndra almost as
+Beyrût is the port of Damascus, and the journey takes not so long. It
+was no lie they told thee.”
+
+“Without doubt the right is with thee, O khawaja,” said Saïd with a
+semblance of conviction; but in his heart he felt bitterly that he
+had been beguiled. Lûndra was the city of his dreams, the abode of
+wealth and luxury, the paradise of fair women partial to strangers.
+“Lifferbûl” was quite a different place. He had heard the name of it
+before, but baldly, as of a town like another, without splendour or
+charm. Thenceforth, aware of a plot to inveigle him thither, he saw
+something sinister in the jovial comradeship of the sailors, though
+cunning made him seem their friend. At length, when one morning he
+awoke to find the steamer at anchor in a fair bay whose shores were
+clothed with a city and its suburbs, his airy scheme became an instant
+purpose. The name of the place, he knew, was Nabuli. To southward rose
+a lonely peak which smoked at the top like a heap of ashes smouldering.
+Ships were there of every sort and size, a great multitude of them,
+dotting the sparkling waters. Surely, among them all, there must be one
+that was bound for the greatest city of the earth. When he had prayed
+and broken his fast he took his leathern sack privily under his robe
+and went on deck.
+
+A boat manned by certain of the crew was just putting off for land.
+Saïd shouted to the men in it, explaining by eloquent signs and
+grimaces that he had a mind to view the town. They laughed up at him,
+roaring and beckoning to him to make haste; so without more ado he
+climbed down among them and was rowed ashore.
+
+In the confusion of landing, amid the busy throng upon the quays,
+he contrived to escape from his fellowship. For some time he dodged
+hither and thither, taking advantage of every turning to put more walls
+between himself and those he supposed in pursuit. His outlandish garb
+and the hurry he was in turned many heads of the passers-by to look
+after him. At last, finding himself again by the seaside, but at a
+point remote from his landing-place, he fell to scanning the faces of
+all he met, seeking someone to question.
+
+Seeing a man of peaceful demeanour stand alone by a pile of bales he
+inquired of him in Arabic how he might best get to Lûndra. “Lûndra?”
+repeated the other after him with a vacant look and a shake of the
+head. He smiled, however, showing white teeth, and, motioning Saïd to
+stay, called to a knot of men who lounged hard by. They turned their
+faces at the call, and, seeing one so strangely clad, drew near out of
+curiosity. One of them, who at first sight appeared a Frankish sailor,
+shouted a salutation in pure Arabic spoken with the accent of Masr.
+
+Saïd ran to him eagerly, his question on his lips. He told a fine
+story, how he was a great merchant bound for Lûndra whither his wares
+were gone before, how an unforeseen accident, which he was at pains to
+specify, had forced him to leave his ship, and how he would be deeply
+obliged to anyone who would direct him to another. His hearer, taken
+with the narrative, made ready offer of his service.
+
+From this new friend Saïd learnt that there were at least two vessels
+in the harbour on the eve of departing for Lûndra. The Egyptian pointed
+out a huge steamer in the offing, and, upon Saïd shaking his head at
+that, showed him a sailing-ship moored to the quay close by. The great
+merchant stroked his beard and thought a minute. Then he nodded with
+deliberation, and begged the sailor to bear him company and support him
+at the bargain.
+
+At first the lord of the ship looked askance at them and spoke
+roughly to the interpreter. But by dint of long parley and a little
+earnest-money he at last changed his tone and agreed to take a
+passenger. Saïd thought him an evil man to look at, for he had only
+one eye and his face was red, inflamed with boils and spots. His voice
+was harsh and rasping, and he spoke to men as one speaks to a dog.
+Saïd confided his feelings to his new friend, who only shrugged his
+shoulders, declaring that the Franks were all like that, unmannerly,
+possessed with the foulest of devils. As for the man’s appearance, it
+was from the hand of Allah, and so no blame attached to him.
+
+The ship was not to sail till the evening, so Saïd had some time on his
+hands. The Egyptian led him to a tavern in a narrow street, where high
+houses all but shut out the sky. The place was kept by the son of an
+Arab, and most of the customers were Orientals. Saïd, on his friend’s
+introduction, was treated with much honour; and he sat there, drinking
+cup after cup of the coffee he loved, enjoying a narghileh, until the
+afternoon was far spent, when the Egyptian led him back to the ship.
+Before he slept that night he could hear the waves lapping against the
+vessel’s side, and knew that he was speeding on his way to Lûndra. His
+dreams were all of fair women languishing in a chastened gloom.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+It was not long ere Saïd regretted the step he had so blindly taken and
+wished himself back on board the steamer, let it bear him to Lifferbûl
+or to the world’s end. Skipper and crew of his new transport were
+altogether of a coarser type. Though the men grinned as they passed him
+in their work, the laugh was at him, not to him, and it filled him with
+distrust.
+
+Day by day the ship leapt or glided with full sails on an endless waste
+of waters. To Saïd, as he squatted on the deck smoking cigarettes
+bought from the captain at what seemed to him a ruinous price, it
+occurred sometimes that the vessel was not moving at all, but was still
+with the waves racing past her. The fancy amused him and he would
+indulge it for minutes at a time until he was almost persuaded that it
+was so; it needed a glance at the strained canvas overhead, and another
+at the passing water, to dispel the illusion. He thought if Allah would
+grant a man wings like the birds he saw, how pleasant it would be to
+make long voyages, swooping down when weary to close wings and rest,
+letting the sea rock him for a little space. He considered the fishes
+of the deep, how they swim ever under water, yet, by the great mercy of
+Allah, are not drowned. “Allah is great!” was the outcome of all his
+musings.
+
+But, as the days wore on, he grew very tired of sitting alone. He
+would keep near the sailors and try to ingratiate himself with them;
+even their unfailing rudeness and the horse-tricks they played him
+seemed better than sheer loneliness. The shifts he was forced to make
+in order to say his prayers undisturbed were a heavy burden on his
+conscience. Very earnestly he besought Allah to pardon any omissions in
+a place where clean water was hard to come by, where there was no sand
+and but little dust to serve for a substitute. Allah was merciful, he
+reflected, and would forgive his shortcomings, taking the circumstances
+into account.
+
+Day by day the world grew sadder and less familiar. Skies lost their
+lustre, the sea darkened and waxed fierce, the very sun shone pale.
+Coasts, when sighted, were black and low-lying on the edge of leaden
+waters heaving in eternal unrest. It turned cold—more bleak than any
+winter. Saïd rubbed his eyes, supposing that there was a film on them
+which made the world seem dim. He realised that the land of the English
+was near, the land of cloud of which the dragoman had spoken; but the
+knowledge brought no gladness. He grew homesick, longing for a known
+face, for the sight of a palm-tree, for a train of camels passing in
+the blinding sunshine with sweet jangle of bells, for a word in his
+native tongue.
+
+The very welkin lowered unfriendly, like a menace. The wind howled as
+a hungry beast of prey; the waves ravened as they leapt against the
+ship. All things, animate and inanimate, were hostile, and he saw their
+fury personal to himself. To make matters worse, a gale arose, and he
+became helpless through sickness. Utter despair got hold of him; he
+prayed ever that Allah might take his life ere he should retch again.
+He could take no food, but a little drink. The sailors came and mocked
+his wretchedness; but he was too prostrate to care for their jeers,
+only begging them to kill him where he lay.
+
+After the illness he was feeble and shaky for a day or two, and felt
+the cold more keenly than before, though every garment he possessed
+was upon him, and a tarpaulin, which a sailor in savage pity flung to
+him, wrapped over all like a great shawl. The queer figure he cut as he
+tottered about shivering was the butt and derision of the whole crew.
+
+The wind abated and the sea calmed. The sun, a mere ghost, looked down
+through worn places of the cloud-rack, like a pale face pressed to a
+rain-smeared pane. A long, wavy line of cliffs, dirty-white, blurred
+and indistinct in a perpetual mist, was pointed out to him as the land
+of the English. He saw it vaguely as one sees whose sight is dim with
+tears. All his hope centred in the little money-bag at his chest;
+there was comfort in thinking that he had enough to pay the price of a
+return voyage to the land of sunlight. Not for a day would he sojourn
+in this region of eternal gloaming, but would seek out a ship at once
+and take passage in her. There was sure to be some good Muslim at the
+landing-place who would direct him for the love of Allah and the Faith
+that saves.
+
+The cliffs were gone and the ship moved along by a low, marshy coast.
+Here and there a group of dwellings, a lighthouse, a lonely hut broke
+the sullen monotony of the shore-line blackly. There was land on both
+sides now—flat and dreary, shadowed, grim and inhuman as Jehennum
+itself. Saïd wondered what kind of men could dwell in that wilderness
+meant for the damned. The waterway was dotted with ships great and
+small. The sun was shining, but so faintly that he hardly knew it. A
+few wan snakes at play upon the ripples were all the brightness it gave.
+
+Anon the gloom deepened in spite of the feeble sun and became of a
+dull, yellowish brown. The shore drew nearer on either hand. They
+entered a great river, populous with all manner of craft—by far the
+greatest Saïd had ever seen. After noon, as they still glided on, the
+face of the sun took on a reddish hue, and the water glinted cold and
+coppery to its lifeless rays. The world seemed dead, and the stir of
+human life upon it loathsome as the foul brood of corruption. The
+river wound between two banks of fog, on which strange shapes of
+roof and chimney, tower and steeple, and the masts of ships appeared
+carven or painted by a tremulous hand. From all sides clouds of smoke
+arose, feeding the gloom and blending with it perpetually. It was as
+if the whole land smouldered. Ships were moored along the wharves, at
+the foot of huge buildings frowning like precipices. Here and there
+a large steamer, lying out towards mid-stream, had a swarm of small
+craft—lighters, wherries and row boats—about her, clinging to her,
+trailing from her like driftwood: a floating island, long and black
+upon the burnished water.
+
+A mighty clamour filled all the gloom and seemed a part of it. The beat
+of hammers rang out so thunderous that Saïd trembled to guess what made
+it. There was a constant hiss of escaping steam, the throbbing of huge
+engines, the creak and rattle of cranes culminating now and then in a
+long roar, the whistle and hoot of steamers, sounds of puffing and the
+swish of paddle-wheels, shouts and cries of human kind. Smells found
+their way out on to the river and dwelt there, in spite of a light
+breeze blowing up from the sea—smells of the furnace and the tan-yard,
+of pitch and resin, and the prevailing pungent smoke. The taste in
+Saïd’s mouth was a mixture of smoke and brine. He was choked, deafened,
+wholly bewildered.
+
+One of the sailors, the most villainous-looking of all, who had of
+late made friendly overtures to him in the shape of devilish grins and
+murderous digs in the ribs, drew near and smote the tarpaulin.
+
+“Lûndra!” he said, leering into Saïd’s face.
+
+“Lûndra!” echoed the passenger with a series of nods and a bright
+display of teeth, explaining that he understood. At that the mariner
+laughed hoarsely and began a lively pantomime, twitching Saïd’s robe,
+pointing to the shore, slapping his own chest, and then making as if
+he would embrace the fisherman. Saïd was slow to see the drift of
+all this; the whole show had to be repeated a second time. But at
+last he gathered that this sailor of the evil countenance was his
+sincere well-wisher and would take charge of him when the time came to
+disembark.
+
+The sun, swathed in smoke-wreaths, was already setting in crimson when,
+amid hoarse shouts of greeting and command, the frenzied blowing of
+a whistle and much flinging about of ropes and chains, the ship drew
+up to a wharf-side. The river flowed as turbid blood, parting a dark
+wilderness of masts and rigging, of endless, shapeless buildings. Here
+and there a pane of glass or other polished surface caught a beam and
+sprang to lurid flame. Westward, over against the sun, a great black
+dome brooded over the misty roofs. The din of the city had a note of
+weariness, like the sighing of a great multitude.
+
+He shrank from landing. At least the ship was known to him, familiar
+in its every part; whereas this boundless, black city, whose sweat
+was filthy smoke, frightened him as a living monster lying in wait to
+devour. Surely it was the realm of Eblis, the abode of evil spirits and
+of souls in torment. For a long while he watched the business of the
+wharf, his brain ahum with doubt and bewilderment, so that he could not
+read or unravel his thoughts.
+
+The skipper came and spoke gruffly to him, pointing to the gangway. He
+dragged the tarpaulin from Saïd’s shoulders and flung it aside upon a
+heap of cordage. The Arab saw plainly that there was no choice left
+for him. Trembling and shrinking, in his flowing Eastern dress of many
+colours, he hurried across the plank, looking back to the ship, the
+scene of so much anguish for him, with longing as to a well-loved home.
+
+The quay on which he found himself was a narrow one, oppressed and
+shadowed by a great warehouse. It reminded him faintly of a strip of
+beach at the foot of a steep cliff. He could see no way from it except
+through the great doors which yawned like caverns, showing bales of
+merchandise piled within. He felt quite helpless, imprisoned, cut off
+from everywhere yet within sound of a multitude. Yellow light streamed
+from every aperture of the building before him, making shapes of men
+fiendish as they moved in black outline across it. The lapping of the
+ripples against the piles, which is the same song all the world over,
+sounded more friendly than the voices of his kind speaking sternly and
+abruptly in a foreign tongue. Worst of all, no one heeded him. A chance
+look, a grin, a shrug of the shoulders, and he was passed by, dismissed
+from the minds of those busy workers. There was something very sinister
+in such absorption. Feeling dazed, he stood still, not knowing which
+way to look, the voice of the city in his ears—the sullen roar of a
+vast, unfriendly throng.
+
+A mighty stroke on the back roused him from torpor. The sailor, who
+some two hours before had accosted him on the deck, stood at his side,
+speaking rapidly in a scolding tone. Then he laughed, and smote him
+once more between the shoulders. Linking arms, he led him away by a
+little passage Saïd had not perceived at the extreme end of the quay.
+
+The streets were broad and open to the sky; they were lighted by
+lanterns set on high poles. The houses were tiny compared with the big
+warehouses of the river-bank, and were separated by spaces of blank
+wall, over which the masts and spars of ships rose ghostly. The sailor
+led Saïd to a house which stood, a blaze of light, at a place where
+three roads met. Pushing open a swing-door, he dragged him into a room
+full of men.
+
+The brightness almost blinded Saïd, coming, as he did, out of the dark,
+and the noise deafened him. A number of red-faced Franks, seated on
+benches at wooden tables, were laughing and talking at the top of their
+voices. In his dazed condition he saw them vaguely as a multitude of
+strangers hostile to him. The atmosphere of the room, charged with the
+fumes of tobacco and strong drink, was hard to breathe; only the warmth
+and the light pleased him. Full of distrust of that noisy company, he
+would fain have drawn back, but his friend restrained him, forcing him
+to a seat at one of the tables.
+
+He was aware of a crowd of faces close to his, of hands tweaking his
+raiment, of a buzz of curiosity ending in a mighty burst of laughter.
+Then a glass was set before him, full of some amber fluid. It had an
+evil smell and he loathed it. Remembering the potion given him by
+Ferideh, he had no doubt but that this was in the same nature. At
+best it was wine, a forbidden thing. They made instant signs to him
+to drink, but he pushed it from him, shaking his head vehemently and
+calling out that it was a sin. At that they laughed the more, and he
+began to fear, reading mischief in their eyes. A man of giant build
+caught hold of him and kept his hands, while another flung his head
+back and forced open his mouth. Saïd kicked with all his might, but his
+feet were powerless between the legs of the table. While he was yet
+struggling, the liquor was poured down his throat, and one held his
+mouth shut until he had swallowed every drop, although he came nigh to
+choking. Then he was released amid a roar of merriment.
+
+A second glass was presently set before him and, sooner than submit to
+further violence, he made shift to empty it with a wry face. The stuff,
+though nasty in the mouth, had a pleasant effect, diffusing unhoped-for
+warmth through all his body. Soon he was joining in the general laugh
+against himself. Just as he finished one glass there was another full
+to his hand.
+
+Instead of enemies he found himself among friends. He could have
+wept for the joy he had in beholding them. In a broken voice he told
+them all his troubles, about Ferideh and his love for her, about her
+elopement and the evil days he had known in Damashc-ush-Shâm, where
+he had been a great merchant, none like him in all that city—no, by
+Allah, nor in any city of the earth! It was the bald truth he was
+telling them—by the beard of the Prophet, he was an honest man, a man
+of consequence, and no liar! Whatever he said, they laughed madly; he
+thought it so kind of them to laugh. His eyes filled with tears as he
+thought on all their kindness.
+
+His head swam queerly, and his eyes grew somewhat dim. He fancied he
+saw a woman somewhere in the room and, with a hazy remembrance of his
+purpose in coming to Lûndra, held out his arms to her enticingly. The
+laughter grew ever more boisterous. It was very rude of them to laugh,
+he considered. The Franks were fools, every one of them—accursed
+unbelievers having no knowledge of Allah or of Muhammed His apostle. He
+stood up, balancing himself with difficulty, and rated them soundly,
+cursing them for a lot of pigs and adjuring Allah Most High to destroy
+their houses and slay their parents. The next minute, he knew not
+how, he was sprawling face downwards on the floor, and his hands and
+clothing were coated with sawdust. They crowded about him, slapping
+their thighs and hallooing with glee. He cursed them again, declaring
+that they were bad men full of strong drink, and thereupon endeavoured
+to recite to them a passage of the Coràn. But one caught hold of his
+leg and proceeded to drag him round the room, while another sat on
+him, using him as a sort of carriage. He had no breath to resent the
+horseplay, but could only pant beneath the weight of the man on his
+back, emitting from time to time a feeble chuckle.
+
+By-and-by they lifted him to a sitting posture and gave him more of
+the burning fluid to drink. He sat for a little while swaying to and
+fro, an insane grin on his swarthy face. Seeing his cap and turban lie
+at some distance upon the floor, he conceived an indistinct notion of
+trying to reach them upon his hands and knees; but they were so far off
+he fell asleep on the way.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+Saïd awoke to a headache and violent sickness. Supposing himself on the
+sea in a tempest, he marvelled at the quiet all about him. Presently
+he sat up and essayed to rub his eyes, but sudden dizziness caused him
+to fall back again with a groan. His couch was hard and wooden, like
+the planked deck of a ship, strewn, however, with something soft and
+powdery, like sand or sawdust. The place where he lay was dark and had
+a nauseous smell. He was distressed with thirst. “Water!—Water!” he
+moaned. “In the name of Allah, bring me a little water!—”
+
+But the tones of his voice rang lonely in an empty room.
+
+Events of the previous night loomed on his mind, as forms seen gigantic
+through mist. Sore shame and anguish fell upon him, illumined in a
+moment by a sudden terror. His money, his last ray of hope—where
+was it? He felt in the bosom of his robe, fingering his hairy chest
+frantically. The pouch and the string which held it were gone—stolen!
+He fumbled in every part of his clothing and scoured the floor with his
+hands; but in vain. “O Allah, All-merciful!—” He beat his breast with
+hoarse cries of rage and despair.
+
+From a trance of grief, embittered by feverish thirst, he was roused
+by the noise of footsteps in an adjoining room. A light shone yellow
+through a glass hatch in the wall of partition, throwing long shadows
+of bottles upon the pane. He could hear a swishing noise, as of someone
+sweeping diligently with a broom. His eyes, sharpened by the habit of
+darkness, saw every part of the chamber in which he lay. It was the
+same to which the sailor had brought him. At sight of the tables and
+benches his shame redoubled so that he wept aloud. He picked up his
+tarbûsh and turban, which had been kicked under a trestle, and made
+haste to put them on. It degraded him to know that he had played the
+buffoon, bare-headed, in the sight of unbelievers. The sound of his
+lamentation filled the room.
+
+A door opened and a woman looked in upon him. She held a candle aloft
+in one hand, while with the other she screened her eyes from the flame.
+The light reddened between her fingers and shed a warm glow on her
+dirty face. She yawned as one not yet wide awake, and spoke crossly to
+him. He stretched out his hands, beseeching her by gestures to give him
+to drink; but she only grew angry, and setting down the candlestick
+upon a bench, shook her fist in his face and nodded significantly
+towards the door. Saïd strove to reason with her, craving only a little
+water to quench the thirst ravaging him; but she cried out and pushed
+him from her. The noise of approaching footsteps and a man’s voice
+came to second her endeavours. Hearing those sounds and dreading fresh
+violence at the hands of the lord of the house, Saïd suffered the dirty
+woman to unbar the door for him, and fled out precipitately into the
+sharp air of the morning.
+
+Having made a few paces, he turned with a shiver to look back at
+the place he was leaving. It was a two-storeyed house, flanked with
+two chimneys. A board upon the face of it seemed to be painted with
+characters or symbols, but he could not see much in the dark with only
+a distant lamp to help him. It stood in a region of blind walls and
+scattered dwellings of dilapidated appearance. There was a flagstaff on
+the roof, which made Saïd think it was a consulate. Beyond, the masts
+and rigging of great ships seemed drawn with a pencil upon the first
+pale mist of dawn. In the gloom of the door by which he had come forth
+he descried the form of a big man in act to watch him; and he shuffled
+hurriedly away, his face pinched with the cold.
+
+He walked aimlessly forward, not knowing which way to take, desirous
+only to escape from that wicked quarter to some part of the city where
+men of honour dwelt, where he might happen on a Muslim in the streets.
+More than once he found his way blocked by a dingy wall and had to
+retrace his steps. Many men passed him, clad in soiled garments and
+carrying tools or sacks. They stared, turning their faces after him;
+but, being sleepy for the most part, they did not hinder or molest him.
+Day broke at his back, suffusing the dun mist wanly. It showed a thin
+dust like salt whitening the ground, the house-tops, and along the
+coping of the walls. The air was biting; it stung his nostrils so that
+he smelt blood. To get a little warmth, he tucked his hands beneath his
+robe and stamped his slippered feet hard upon the pavement.
+
+In the shelter of an entry he found a little dry dust, with which he
+rubbed his face, hands and feet preparatory to saying his prayers. In
+the midst of his devotions, however, heavy footfalls sounded in the
+street, and a tall man, darkly-clad, with a strange form of hat and a
+cudgel stuck in his belt, spoke roughly and hit him on the back. He
+rose to his feet, expostulating, but the man made urgent signs to him
+to move on, and his mien was so full of authority that Saïd dared not
+disregard the bidding of his outstretched hand. “Allah pardon!” he
+muttered as he went his way, feeling that the day had begun badly.
+
+Presently he came into a spacious street, so long that he could not
+see the end of it. The sun, just risen, looking sickly through the
+wreathing vapours, shed a milky stain on the roadway and parts of the
+buildings, casting the faintest of grey shadows. But for gilt signs on
+some of the houses, Saïd would scarcely have known that it shone at
+all. He strode on with his back to the light, wrapped close in his long
+robe, trembling with cold, very conscious of the inquisitive gaze of
+other wayfarers. The road was thronged with carriages, great and small,
+of shapes unknown to him. Some were like wheeled houses, crowded with
+people inside and upon the roof. These queer conveyances pleased him by
+their gay colours, which he admired, as he did also certain hoardings
+decked with painted paper—as much as a hopeless and utterly destitute
+man can admire anything.
+
+Suddenly hoots and yells of derision struck his ears, and he became
+aware of a horde of ragged urchins following him, capering, grimacing,
+and howling with all the strength of their lungs. They picked things
+out of the gutter to throw at him, bespattering his raiment with
+filthy refuse. He rounded upon them with a snarl, showing white eyes
+and teeth; whereat they fled helter-skelter, only to return again and
+pester him the moment his back was turned. He looked appealingly at
+the passers-by for help; but they laughed for the most part, though
+some of the women had eyes of pity, and a man who seemed to rank
+superior to the multitude stopped and spoke sternly to the pursuers.
+Saïd was beginning to despair of ever getting rid of them, when the
+rabble suddenly dispersed of its own accord, flying this way and that
+like small fry at the approach of some big fish of prey. Looking in
+astonishment for the cause of his deliverance, he beheld a man in a
+tall, dome-shaped hat and dark clothing, having a bludgeon in his belt,
+so like the party who had cut short his orisons, that Saïd believed it
+was the same. He saw in this individual, drawing near with deliberate
+tread and solemn bearing, a high officer of the irregular troops
+charged with the maintenance of peace and order. He bowed low to the
+personage and invoked blessings on him in passing.
+
+In the relief of being unmolested for a while, his spirits rose, and he
+felt almost happy. The streets grew ever more crowded as he advanced.
+The road was filled with two streams of wheeled vehicles, going in
+opposite directions. The throng on the footway jostled and elbowed
+him roughly, giving no more heed than the sea gives to a piece of
+driftwood. It surprised him to see no horsemen nor pack-animals, not
+so much as a train of mules. All was busy, yet orderly. Though the
+press of the traffic was so great that the wheels of one vehicle grated
+those of another, and the nose of a carriage-horse was in the back of
+a cart in front, there was no frenzied shouting, such as might have
+been expected, no gesticulation on the part of drivers, but only a dull
+rumble and roar akin to thunder.
+
+A display of familiar dainties in a vast window caught his eyes and
+held them for a while. He flattened his nose against the pane, gloating
+on oranges and lemons, bananas and pomegranates, dried figs and dates
+and raisins, with grins of delightful recognition. He stood a long time
+gazing at them, shouldered impatiently by wayfarers. It was with a sigh
+that at last he turned away and pursued his endless walk.
+
+Many women and girls passed him, clad in the immodest fashion of the
+Franks, which excites a man by its cunning suggestion of the form
+beneath. They wore strange headgear, such as never man saw. Some were
+young and beautiful, so that Saïd leered at them meaningly. One fair
+girl of provoking charm, who was walking with an elder woman, laughed
+at him and touched her companion’s arm. At that Saïd tingled in every
+vein, believing that she wished for him. All that the dragoman had
+told concerning the beauties of Lûndra surged gladly in his brain. His
+pulse quickened; he forgot that it was cold. Turning, he overtook the
+two women and walked at the young one’s side, grinning into her face,
+and speaking words of love in Arabic. She shrank from him, pale with
+fright, and clung to the older woman’s arm; but he kept close to her,
+wooing her hotly with every term of endearment. They hastened their
+steps, so that he had to run to keep up with them. All at once they
+stopped short, and the old woman, who wore a fine cloak of fur and a
+head-dress of many colours, spoke earnestly with a tall man clad in the
+sombre uniform already known to Saïd, having a high, dome-shaped hat
+and a leather truncheon in his belt. He stepped forward and seized the
+fisherman by the shoulders, shaking him and speaking sternly to him in
+a tone there was no gainsaying. Then, as the women made their escape,
+he pointed imperiously up the street and gave Saïd a push in that
+direction. The Muslim, completely taken aback, obeyed mechanically, the
+policeman following him a little way to mark his behaviour.
+
+All day long he strayed on purposeless, growing more and more weary,
+a prey to thirst, and hunger, and intense cold. After noon the gloom
+deepened, the puny sun becoming quite obscured in cloud. He found a
+large piece of Frankish bread in a gutter, which he ate ravenously; and
+a little later, by good luck came to a drinking-fountain with a cup
+fixed to a chain for the service of poor wayfarers. Feeling refreshed,
+he prepared to face the night, and looked about for some sheltered
+place where he might sleep undisturbed. In a square court surrounded
+by high houses there was a sort of garden planted with sorry trees and
+shrubs, black with the prevailing soot, having seats and paved walks,
+and in the midst a great idol upon a pedestal. He stretched himself on
+one of the benches and composed his limbs to rest. But the cold was so
+great that he dared not fall asleep, but was fain to get up and walk
+again lest he should stiffen and die.
+
+The streets by night were even more bewildering than in the day-time.
+The long vistas of yellow lamps, branching endlessly one out of
+another, confused his brain. Every wheeled vehicle had monstrous bright
+eyes to frighten him. The mist of light was blinding—the eternal mist
+of cloud by day, of fire by night, from which the dull roar of traffic
+seemed inseparable. The crowd where no man saluted other, no one looked
+friendly at his neighbour, but every face was grim with a set purpose,
+seemed awful to him. He feared it with the fear of evil spirits. The
+cries which assailed his ears were mournful as a wailing for the dead.
+
+At length, after hours of wandering, he found an archway giving access
+to a quiet court and flung himself down in its gloom, too weary to
+know or care that the stones were icy cold. But it seemed that he had
+scarcely fallen asleep ere he was awakened by the flash of a lantern in
+his face. A gruff voice made a humming in his ears, and the form of a
+policeman loomed tremendous in his heavy eyes—a dark form holding the
+light which dazed him. He struggled to his feet, and seeing the enemy
+in the act to step forward and seize him, made off through the archway
+and down the sounding street as fast as his stiff limbs would carry him.
+
+After that he dared not lie down again, but wandered on, sometimes
+resting on a doorstep, sometimes leaning against a wall or some
+railings, until a pallor of dawn appeared in the east. He found a quiet
+place where he said his prayers undisturbed, and soon after, by the
+grace of Allah, lighted on another crust of bread—a huge chunk on
+which he broke his fast. Then, when the day was fully come, he entered
+a public garden enclosed with palings and lay down upon the first seat
+he came to.
+
+How long he slept he could not tell, for when he awoke the sky was
+completely overcast, and the brown fog had no point of brightness to
+indicate the sun’s whereabouts. But the place where he lay was noisy
+with the play of ragged children, some of whom fled pell-mell as his
+eyes opened on them. His limbs were numbed so that, setting foot to the
+ground, he had to support himself by the back of the seat; and it was
+long ere he could walk safely.
+
+As he issued from the garden he espied a well-known object amid the
+hurrying crowd on the footway of a great thoroughfare—a scarlet
+tarbûsh. With the strength of hope renewed, he ran as fast as he could
+to overtake its wearer. He came up with him, panting a salutation. But
+the face turned to him was not the face of the son of an Arab, but
+darker and of an olive tint not far removed from mouse-colour, the eyes
+set closer together. The reply to his salutation was in an unknown
+language; it was the speech of an unbeliever, in which the name of
+Allah did not occur. With a gesture of apology, expressive also of the
+deepest despair, Saïd fell back from him.
+
+He got little heart-breaking reminders of the East from the form of a
+building here and there, and from homely objects in the shop windows.
+The sullen roar of the city was terrible in his ears, seeming now the
+voice of a cruel monster, now the growl of thunder—always hostile and
+inhuman. His eyes, unused to the subdued light, unable to appreciate
+its half tints, met a grey-brown horror everywhere. The women, too,
+dressed to provoke desire, had a share in his loathing of the scene. He
+would have liked to kill them for the involuntary thrill they gave.
+
+Men and women with great baskets crouched by the edge of the roadway,
+selling flowers. Some of the foot-passengers stopped to buy them. Saïd
+met people with nosegays in their hands, and it surprised him that they
+did not smell at them as folks used to in the East; but on reflection
+it seemed likely that in this land of gloom and disappointment the
+blossoms had no smell or, if any, a foul one. He saw the sign of the
+cross often in all sorts of places, and spat on the ground for hatred
+of it, cursing the religion of the country secretly under his breath.
+
+His brain grew confused. He was hunting for the sunlight which was
+lost. Little patches of colour drew his eyes and caused him a moment’s
+rejoicing as for a treasure found at last. But each disillusion left
+him more despairing. Of a sudden, at the turning of a street, a blare
+of trumpets smote his ears, together with the rhythmic beat of a drum.
+In the heart of an eager, hurrying crowd, of like hue with the houses,
+the fog and the mud of the roadway, marched a company of soldiers
+clad in gorgeous scarlet—a hundred of them moving as one man. Their
+brightness and the marvel of their going attracted Saïd. He followed
+them spellbound, yet with a kind of horror such as one has of jin in
+the night-season. He knew nothing of the crowd’s roughness. The moving
+streak of red glowed like a flower-bed in that sombre street—like a
+bed of wild anemones amid the dull rocks of his native land. He battled
+to get near to them, but could not. To his mind, unhinged by fatigue
+and exposure, it was clear that, if only he could win to walk with
+them he would be saved. They were his life, his destiny, and they were
+slipping from him.
+
+At length he lost sight of them altogether and the blackest despair
+took hold of him. He wandered into a region of quiet streets. The air
+had grown perceptibly warmer since the morning, and now a fine rain
+began to fall. Of a sudden, as it seemed to him, lamps were lighted;
+it was night. The sky lowered as a vast cloud; it was like a close
+lid oppressing him. Here was a maze in a box, shut out from sun, moon
+and stars, and he was doomed to roam in it for ever. All at once he
+felt deadly cold; the next minute he was burning from head to foot. It
+occurred to him to pray to Allah; but where was the use of prayer when
+he was already condemned and in torment? He ceased to fight against his
+lot.
+
+A host of evil spirits beset him, gibbering, snapping their fingers,
+grinning, and mocking his wretched plight. Things faded and grew dim.
+He knew the horror of a great army coloured like blood, thousands
+moving in silence as one man. Shrieking, he clung to some railings for
+protection, vaguely aware that a crowd was gathering about him in a
+place which, a minute before, had been quite deserted. Then he was back
+again in his native land.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+Saïd raved of palm-trees and gardens, the great sunshine and the inky
+shadows. He saw again the little house among the sandhills beside a
+calm blue sea. There were his nets spread to dry upon the beach. There
+was his fig-tree with the gnarled boughs and trunk, and the big leaves
+wide apart. There was the fringe of tamarisks along the shore, and the
+little city with its dome and minaret, clear-cut upon the vivid sky.
+He heard the distant music of bells, as some train of camels or mules
+passed slowly among the landward gardens ….
+
+Suddenly there was a dun fog, effacing the vision and wrapping him in
+its gloom. Lamps without number shone blurred through the darkness.
+There was a sullen roar. He cried aloud in fear, but the sound of his
+voice was strange to him—a new terror. He grew aware of a bright and
+silent army, streaming ever out of darkness into darkness across the
+narrow range of his sight; tens of thousands moving as one man. Their
+colour entranced Saïd, but the order of their going chilled him with
+an eerie dread. He was awe-stricken, in the presence of a force beyond
+man’s control. He felt that, if he could only draw near and walk with
+them, he would be informed of all things concerning his lot; but his
+limbs were frozen where he stood. He cried out upon the name of Allah ….
+
+The fog melted away, the throng with it.
+
+“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn Muhammed!”… He was in the streets of Damashc-ush-Shâm,
+frenzied with the sunlight and the shouting. He slew and slew, until
+he waded in the blood of unbelievers. All at once he was confronted
+with an old man whose name was known to him. Unthinking, he flew at his
+throat and strangled him, flinging the body aside into an entry. Then
+he fell a prey to the bitterest anguish, perceiving that he had killed
+Mustafa, his adopted father. His wail tore the blue sky, as it had
+been a curtain, and dun fog poured in through the rent. Again he was
+beset with darkness, and the shiver of the silent host was upon him. He
+saw well-known faces in the ranks:—Abdullah, Selìm, Hasneh, Ibrahìm
+the doorkeeper, Ferideh, Ismaìl Abbâs, Mustafa, Nûr, Mahmud Effendi.
+All the people he had ever known passed in endless review before him.
+They were changed to the likeness of devils, and moved in silence all
+together, as though one will actuated them ….
+
+Presently he was sitting alone on the deck of a ship. Anon, he was
+drowning in the sea. Then he led a bride to his house on the sands, but
+ere he could reach it the fog came upon him. Once more there was brown
+twilight and that nameless horror ….
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was late afternoon. Wintry sunlight, enfeebled by the smoke-clouds,
+made lurid ripples on the bare white walls of a spacious room lined
+with sick-beds. At one end there was a comfortable fire burning in a
+recess of the wall, before which three women in white caps and aprons
+sat at a table, conversing in low tones. The ward was full of tossings,
+groans and sobs of pain, relieved by the subdued laughter of the nurses
+at their table; the roar of the city coming as a murmur from without.
+
+Saïd opened his eyes upon the scene, but there was no light of
+understanding in them. He strove to raise himself on his elbows, but
+fell back upon the pillows with a moan. When next he looked there was
+a woman at his bedside watching him. She held a steaming bowl whose
+contents she kept stirring with a spoon. Her face showed neither pity
+nor sympathy, but all her movements were deft and gentle.
+
+While she was busy feeding him, propping his back upon a heap of
+pillows, two men entered the room together and came straight to where
+he lay. One of them, who was dressed all in black, his face smooth
+save for a great tuft of hair on either jaw, hailed Saïd courteously
+in Arabic, inquiring after his health and commending him warmly to
+the mercy of Allah. Sitting down on a chair by the bed he informed
+the invalid that he had been for many years a missionary among the
+Arabs, and wished to know if he could serve him in any way. The sound
+of his native language seemed to gladden the sick man, for he listened
+intently, a dreamy smile on his face; but he answered nothing to the
+purpose, though his lips formed words. After many fruitless efforts to
+chain his attention, the visitor sighed and departed. He returned on
+the following days to meet with the same disappointment. Saïd always
+listened eagerly, sometimes his face wore a puzzled look, sometimes
+he smiled; but he never answered a word articulate. His silence was
+the more surprising that the nurses declared him to be very talkative
+when left alone, often muttering and exclaiming to himself for minutes
+together.
+
+As the days wore on his strength came slowly back to him. He was able
+to sit up, then to walk a little way with the arm of a nurse. But he
+took no delight in anything, seeming bewildered, as if stunned from a
+blow. His eyes dwelt long and puzzled on every object, as though they
+would fathom its meaning and could not. The doctor, going his round
+one morning, took him by the shoulder and gazed searchingly into his
+eyes. He made as if he would strike Saïd’s face, watching the patient
+carefully.
+
+“An idiot,” he pronounced. “The man’s mind is gone.”
+
+When next the person in black came to the hospital, he sat not with
+Saïd, but with the doctor. The Arab was gaining strength with every
+day. He could not remain much longer in a place devoted to sick people.
+It seemed desirable that the poor fellow should be sent back to the
+East, where there was just a chance that he might recover his wits. The
+missionary undertook to lay the case before the society whose minister
+he was. He had little doubt but that the matter could be easily
+arranged. At shaking hands, the doctor begged that he might be informed
+if the sea-voyage and return of familiar scenes wrought any noteworthy
+change in his patient. The case was a rare one, and its peculiar
+circumstances interested him.
+
+Ten days later, Saïd left the hospital, supported by the man in black
+and another man, and was driven in a close carriage to the docks.
+There was a film on his eyes so that he could see nothing clearly. His
+companions talked much by the way, but a dull roar in his ears made
+their speech seem remote. He muttered often to himself; but whenever
+the missionary addressed him, he became intent at once, listening with
+strained attention, a faint smile on his face.
+
+His brain was still full of visions, of scenes slowly changing. But
+from being an actor in them he was become a peaceful spectator,
+regarding them with the interest one has in a pageant. They were
+pleasant for the most part, succeeding one another with a dream’s
+inconsequence. Sometimes they were even funny, making him laugh
+aloud. But there were times when a cloud shadowed him suddenly and he
+shuddered, conscious of a vast army moving evenly and in silence, held
+together as one man by some mysterious force beyond his ken.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+Day by day the air grew warmer. Sky and sea put off their gloom,
+shining ever bluer and more lustrous as the sun gained in strength.
+Day by day, as he sat on the deck of a great steamer, looking out
+over the restless waves, Saïd had glimpses of remembered things, at
+first dimly, growing clearer as time went on. Once more he knew the
+difference of day and night, could tell when it was morning, or high
+noon, or evening; and he observed the hours appointed for prayer and
+thanksgiving to Allah. Scales seemed to fall from his eyes so that he
+saw distinctly, and sought the meaning of what he saw. The roaring in
+his ears dwindled to stray murmurs, letting him hear the voices and
+sounds about him as something more than mere senseless jabber.
+
+Much of his past life came back, as a tale heard long ago; but it
+had no significance for him. Knowing that it concerned him nearly,
+it distressed him that he could not guess its import. He had the
+same trouble with regard to all that passed on board the steamer.
+Everything was very hard to understand. He would puzzle for hours over
+some trivial detail of the scene, knowing it familiar, yet powerless
+to grasp its meaning. The outer shell of form and colour held his
+mind and prevented it from penetrating any deeper. Worst of all, he
+was conscious of this flaw in his vision, though he strove in vain to
+better it.
+
+Yet, in spite of drawbacks, his heart was glad because of the great
+sunlight and its dazzle on the sea. He would smile and laugh for no
+reason, and would croon old songs to himself where he sat apart in the
+lee of a cabin. Words came to his lips, which somehow suited his frame
+of mind; and he was pleased, recognising their fitness, but the words,
+like everything else, had no meaning for him.
+
+Sometimes, glancing down at his clothing, he was almost convinced that
+it was not himself at all, but someone else whom he had never known.
+The close-fitting trousers which strained at the knees when he sat
+cross-legged, the loose-hanging black coat with needless buttons upon
+the sleeves, the Frankish boots so tiresome to put off and on, the hat
+of plaited straw, bound about the crown with a black ribbon—all were
+strange, and vexed him with misty doubts of his identity. He would turn
+from the contemplation of them with a sigh, content simply to bask in
+the warmth and the brightness, leaving the riddle of his existence
+unsolved for the present.
+
+The people of the ship were very kind to him. On all sides he saw
+smiling, friendly faces. One man in particular came often to sit with
+him; who always wore black clothes and dwelt in a part of the steamer
+whither Saïd was not allowed to go. He spoke in a familiar tongue, and
+the fisherman returned his greetings naturally, as an echo answers;
+but when he talked at any length his speech became mere words, having
+form and even colour, but no sense. One early morning this person came
+to the place where Saïd slept, and awoke him. He led him up on to the
+deck and showed a city resting on the dimpled bosom of the sea, with
+minarets and domes and a lighthouse, and great buildings dark beside
+the rising sun. And Saïd laughed for joy, he knew not why.
+
+The vessel entered a fine harbour, where there was much shipping. As
+the sun got higher, the sea grew vivid blue and the sands of the coast
+had the colour of a ripe orange. There was green of foliage beyond the
+houses, the sky towards the horizon was soft and pearly. Hundreds of
+little boats plied upon the dancing water between large vessels which
+lay inert and supine, like sleeping monsters. The men and boys in them
+were gaily clad, with red caps, light turbans and clothing of divers
+colours. Homely shouts were in the air.
+
+Saïd’s heart went out to the brightness of that merry scene. He hated
+his companion all at once with a fierce and unreasoning hatred. He
+would gladly have slain him where he stood smiling indulgently at the
+idiot’s glee. He loathed the steamer and all on board. He longed to
+be free of them, to escape on shore and mix with those men in bright
+apparel, who were his own people.
+
+The noise of the engines ceased with the pulse of the screw; and almost
+directly there was a swarm of rowing-boats to the steamer’s side. In
+one of these, Saïd discerned a Frank sitting, dressed all in black on
+the pattern of the man at his side, of the man he hated. He scowled
+at this new blot in the sunlight; and his eyes chose that boat out of
+all others, following it closely. He saw the Frank step out and mount
+the ladder to the deck. A minute later he shrank back with a snarl.
+The evil one had come near, and was staring at him, grasping the hand
+of the other man in black and speaking with him as an old friend.
+Presently he essayed to take Saïd’s arm to lead him, but the latter
+sprang aside and, scrambling hot-foot down the ladder, was first in the
+boat.
+
+During the brief passage to the shore, his new enemy strove to engage
+him in conversation; but Saïd, absorbed in watching the boatmen and
+listening greedily to their talk, had a deaf ear for him. Arrived at
+the landing-place, however, he submitted to be led through the lively
+crowd. He was as one demented, laughing for no apparent reason and
+shouting salutations to all he met. His excitement made no distinction
+between true believers and infidels, but beamed alike upon all who
+wore bright clothing. People turned in astonishment to look after one,
+who, though clad in all respects like a poor Frank, and walking with a
+well-known missionary, yet swore by the Coràn and accosted everyone in
+Arabic with a marked Syrian intonation.
+
+Feasting his eyes on the warm hues of the crowd and its animation,
+Saïd felt that he was at home again. Great joy engrossed him to the
+exclusion of all else in the world. He forgot the existence of the man
+in black, ignored even his own existence; content to wander on through
+the merry, noisy streets, no matter who his guide. But at a point
+where several ways met, the missionary tried to draw him out of the
+sunshine, and the colours, and the shouting, into a shadowed, silent
+street, where the houses were large and of Frankish build, with big
+glass windows. He pulled Saïd’s sleeve and spoke earnestly to him. The
+fisherman stared at him without comprehension, a fool’s laugh dying
+in his throat. His glance followed the guide’s stretched-out hand.
+Something in the aspect of the houses made him shiver. In a flash he
+had the vision of a vast dun cloud and a devilish blood-coloured throng
+moving silently through its heart. That road led somehow to it, and
+the man in black, the false guide, was suborned to drag him thither.
+With the cry of a wild beast, he sprang upon the astonished missionary
+and gripped his throat, forcing him to the ground. It was in his mind
+to strangle him there and then, and so make an end of the gloom, the
+silent horror and all the hideous nightmare he personified. But a
+concourse of people clothed in bright colours diverting his eyes, he
+quitted his hold and stood up.
+
+“Dìn Muhammed!” he said, and burst out laughing.
+
+At that the faces of the crowd changed their looks of menace for those
+of concern.
+
+“Run, O my uncle!” … “Make haste!” … “By this way!” … “Save thyself!” …
+
+Friendly cries came from all hands. And Saïd, without knowing why,
+leapt forward with a shout of exultation, and ran he cared not whither.
+
+His Frankish hat had fallen and was forgotten. His head, which had
+not known the razor for many weeks, bristled with a shock of white
+hair. His beard, white also, was long and unkempt. Women in shrouds
+of indigo, with queer cylinders between their eyes, ran from him
+with screams of terror. Brown-limbed children tumbled headlong into
+doorways, yelling for their lives. Men in flowing robes flattened
+themselves against the wall as he passed, and stood to stare after
+him, exclaiming together. Soldiers, set to keep order in the streets,
+retired trembling to their hutches, and asked a blessing on that awful
+runner. An old man with white hair and beard bounding forward like a
+boy, shouting and laughing as he ran …. The apparition was new to the
+men of Iskendería, and they wondered what it might portend. Surely,
+thought they, it is a madman, or some true prophet sent from Allah! Did
+ever man see the like? Verily the end of all things draws nigh!
+
+Saïd sped on, laughing in pure joy of the sunshine and the shadows, the
+bright hues and merry sounds of a life familiar to him. Swarthy faces
+looked out at him from dark thresholds of taverns and shops. There
+were donkeys, mules, camels, laden with sacks and bales and panniers.
+There was nothing sad, nothing to recall the cloud and its fear, save
+only a few Franks here and there; and even they failed to anger him,
+being clad not in dull raiment but in white. The sunshine on the
+multi-coloured crowd, the chattering and gesticulation, the blue sky,
+the air, the very smells were friendly, redolent of home.
+
+In a place where there was less traffic he slackened his pace, panting,
+and found himself bathed in sweat. For the first time he grew aware
+of the sun’s beams scorching his uncovered head, and instinctively he
+sought the shade of a wall, near the shop of a petty trader.
+
+His own cries and laughter rang yet in his ears, but hollow and
+senseless. In the plum-coloured shade he sat down to rest, his eyes
+dwelling on the sunlit buildings opposite. Their tint against the
+sapphire sky made him think of barren, stony hills—the sun-burnt
+hills of Es-Shâm. Of a sudden, there was a swimming in his head.
+Sickness seized him, forcing him to vomit. He groaned aloud, calling
+heart-broken on the name of Allah and bewailing his evil day. The
+merchant reclining at ease in the coolness of his shop hard by, hearing
+the sound of lamentation, came forth to see who made it. He was a tall,
+bearded man of middle life, wearing a high fez and embroidered turban;
+and his robe of mixed silk and cotton was green and crimson striped.
+Seeing an old man sit there bare-headed, he reproved him gravely for
+his folly, vowing by Allah that if he got a sunstroke he could blame no
+one but himself.
+
+Saïd raised despairing eyes to the speaker—eyes which saw nothing but
+his own immediate wretchedness. He heard the voice of Selìm cry,—
+
+“Merciful Allah!… O my master!… O my eyes! O my dear! Is it indeed
+thyself, and in this shameful plight?… O mother of Mûsa, get food and
+drink! Let Hasneh make ready a pleasant bed! Behold Saïd, my beloved,
+is returned to us at the point of death, having white hair and the
+clothes of a Frank. Praise be to Allah that he is returned to us! May
+Allah spare him to us, and grant him peace and good health once more!”
+
+Saïd heard Selìm’s voice and was glad to hear it. It sounded familiar,
+and he knew it friendly. “Praise be to Allah!” he murmured naturally.
+But his mind had no real knowledge of Selìm, and the words were but
+empty sound.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+When Saïd recovered of his sunstroke, he was the honoured guest of the
+little household. Selìm’s love for him, born years before of gratitude
+for the gift of a stolen garment, was now doubled with the respect for
+one of unsound mind. The whole house was Saïd’s, the shop also and
+all it contained. Selìm or his wife would have waited on him all day
+long had Hasneh not forestalled them. Mûsa was told off to shadow him
+when he walked abroad, lest any evil should befall him. His head and
+the hair of his body were shorn duly according to the law, and he was
+arrayed in good clothes, which the master of the house bought for him
+at no small cost.
+
+At the hour of the evening meal, when men are sociable in the relief of
+the day’s task done, Selìm would often tell his children and any chance
+guest the story of his acquaintance with Saïd. He would lift the brown
+dressing-gown with the red braiding out of the chest where it was kept,
+and tears would stand in his eyes as he showed it to the little circle,
+handling it reverently as a priceless relic. He would glance ruefully
+at the fisherman where he sat cross-legged, muttering often to himself
+and making strange play with his hands.
+
+The young ones loved better to hear of the great slaughter and how
+bravely Ahmed Pasha met his death. They would clamour for their father
+to act the scene for them, showing where the Sultàn’s envoy stood,
+where the Wâly, where the file of soldiers who shot him down. Mûsa
+clenched teeth and hands at the point where the soldiers shirked their
+work, and for a time doggedly refused to fire. He vowed that he would
+rather be killed himself than slay an old man and a pious Muslim to
+pleasure infidels. They loved that story best for the fighting and
+bloodshed that were in it; but Selìm liked most to tell of Saïd the
+Fisherman and his great goodness.
+
+Every morning, having broken his fast, Saïd roamed forth out of the
+city to a place he had discovered, where there were palm-trees beside
+a sandy road, and whence, through the dusty leaves of a garden, he
+got a glimpse of yellow sands and the dark blue sea. There, sitting
+cross-legged in the shade, he was happy all day long, laughing
+and crooning to himself, receiving homage from the poorer class
+of wayfarers—camel-drivers and muleteers, beggars and gipsies,
+snake-charmers and itinerant merchants—who respected the fine robe and
+the embroidered turban with which Selìm had invested him.
+
+He loved to watch the long trains of camels winding with the road, and
+would strain his ears to hold the music of their bells when it grew
+faint and died in the distance. It pleased him to see big men and fat
+go jogging by upon small donkeys, their legs distended because of full
+saddle-bags, their feet not far from the ground. The blue-robed peasant
+women made eyes at him as they walked with swaying bodies, sleek brown
+arms raised like twin handles of a vase to steady the burdens on their
+heads. Sometimes rich men on prancing horses, sometimes a carriage
+dashed past him, heralded by an outrunner with girt-up loins. He took
+a childish pleasure in saluting these great ones, prizing a chance
+smile from one of them more than the effusion of humbler passengers.
+All was passionate, highly-coloured of the East. Every wayfarer was
+merry or furious, laughing or cursing, sullen or smiling, in the
+depth of despair or the height of glee, hot and heady as the sunlight
+itself. But sometimes, in a minute, a deep gloom would fall on him,
+isolating him so that he seemed to sit alone, aware of the silent
+march of a great bright army. At such moments he knew that the mystery
+was eternal, that it had been going on unguessed through all the time
+he had forgotten, and must go on irrevocably until the last day. He
+shuddered when the fit left him, and it was long ere he could shake off
+the horror of it.
+
+Sometimes Hasneh would accompany him to his favourite spot and sit near
+him in the shade, delighting in his childlike gladness. But the wife
+of Selìm could seldom spare her from the house; more often it was Mûsa
+who dogged Saïd’s footsteps and lay hid in the garden close to where he
+sat. The lad got amusement out of his allotted task by imagining great
+perils for his father’s guest, seeing himself as rescuer dashing like a
+young hurricane to save him, scattering a hundred well-armed men like
+chaff. When the sun was set and the smoke from hidden dwellings curled
+blue upon the delicate flush of evening or yellowish on the dove-grey
+which followed, Saïd would rise and turn his face homeward; he loved to
+spend the live-long day in the open, detesting the imprisonment of four
+walls.
+
+For months, for years, he led this peaceful kind of life, without care
+or thought, conscious only of the appearance of things, their outward
+shape and colour, troubled only at long intervals by the ghost of a
+memory. But there came a time of disturbance, when the crowd in the
+streets wore anxious looks, and men formed knots together, speaking
+excitedly with fierce eyes. Selìm, fearing a tumult, thought it wise to
+confine his guest within doors lest he should come to harm. His loving
+care would not trust the fisherman out of his sight. This imprisonment
+fretted Saïd, to whom the sunshine and the fresh air of the gardens
+were become as daily food. He grew very cross and irritable, and
+Hasneh, into whose charge he was given, had to bear the brunt of all
+ill-humour which could hear no reason.
+
+Once when a great uproar arose in the city Saïd’s eyes flamed suddenly
+and he sprang to his feet. For a moment there was understanding in
+his face; but the fire died as suddenly as it leapt up, and he fell
+back into the old, listless bad temper. For more than a month he was
+constrained by Selìm’s order, going out only occasionally, when the
+master of the house had leisure to accompany him. He was kept in the
+house in deep shadow, with nothing bright to look at, and time hung
+very heavy on his hands.
+
+One day Selìm closed his shop and came to sit in the room with his
+family. He spoke seldom, and was very grave. A neighbour with a scared
+face looked in on them from time to time, bringing tidings or feeling
+the need of company. Through long hours there was booming of cannon,
+followed by explosions near at hand, the crash and roar of falling
+masonry. Saïd strained ears to hearken, and his face wore a puzzled
+expression, such as is often seen on faces of the blind. The firing
+ceased towards evening, and Selìm, praising Allah, went out to gather
+tidings, but refused to take Saïd with him.
+
+The next day there was no more booming, but towards noon the city
+was filled with shouting and tumult. The whole household running out
+to learn the cause of the din, Saïd was left unguarded for a few
+minutes. They had hidden away his outer garments, thinking that his
+love of finery would prevent him from going abroad without it. But he
+was a match for them. He knew where to find a robe—an old garment
+of outlandish fashion, prettily bound with soiled red braid, which
+had often been spread out before his eyes of evening, when there were
+guests present. He opened the chest and took it out, smoothing it
+lovingly with a furtive glance to make sure that no one saw. Then he
+put it on, chuckling.
+
+Thus attired, he stole to the door and peeped out. Hasneh and the
+mother of Mûsa were talking with some other women a good way off. Selìm
+himself was nowhere to be seen. Girding up his loins, Saïd took to his
+heels, laughing as he ran. Clouds of smoke blurred the sky before him
+above the roofs; his eyes dwelt on them curiously as they did always on
+a new thing. There was a noise of shouting in the air.
+
+Suddenly on turning a corner he found himself in a yelling, furious
+mob, all rushing in one direction. Fierce eyes, brandished weapons,
+curses and a roar of shouting. It was as though a door swung open
+in Saïd’s brain, admitting light into a chamber long shut up.
+Understanding flashed in his eyes.
+
+“Dìn Muhammed!” he cried, and rushed forward with the rest, only more
+fiercely, with more of frenzy. Even in that turmoil men looked at him
+and, looking, made way for him to pass. There was something awful in
+his face, a light of madness or inspiration beyond their ken. He was
+a prophet and would bring them good fortune. They pressed on behind
+him, shouting louder than before. On he ran, tearing a way through the
+crowd. At length he led them, was at their head, still rushing on.
+
+All at once cries of warning and terror arose. The crowd surged
+backward, forsaking him. A sudden fear came upon him, a shudder … the
+noiseless horror!… A bright host, moving together as one man, appeared
+out of a side street, and formed a wall before him. He pressed both
+hands to his temples, staring wildly. There was a word of command,
+short and incisive as a pistol-shot. All the sunlight was filled with
+yells of rage and fright. Again the word of command, followed by a line
+of flashes and a loud report which burst his head.
+
+“Dìn! Dìn! Dìn!…”
+
+He flung up his arms. His eyes seemed to turn over in their sockets,
+as he fell backwards on the ground. So the garment of the Christian
+missionary became the death-robe of a martyr for El Islâm, and the
+sunlight swam blood-red at the last.
+
+
+
+
+TIME TABLE
+
+
+  1871 (end of October) Saïd left Damascus.
+
+  1882 (11th of June)   Riot and Massacre of
+                         Europeans at Alexandria.
+
+  1882 (11th of July)   Bombardment of Alexandria.
+
+  1882 (12th of July)   Egyptian forces under Arabi
+                          evacuated the town, setting
+                          fire to European quarter and
+                          letting loose upon it gangs
+                          of plunderers. Saïd met his
+                          death in this riot.
+
+
+
+
+A NOTE ON THE TYPE IN WHICH THIS BOOK IS SET
+
+
+_The type in which this book has been set (on the Linotype) is Caslon
+Old Face, a faithful and authentic reproduction from the original
+patterns of William Caslon I. Historically considered, Caslon’s old
+face types are the most important contribution the English speaking
+world has ever made to the art of typography. No other face has ever
+attained to so lasting and general a popularity. Caslon’s types were
+made to read. Even their apparent imperfections contribute to this
+effect being, in fact, the result of a deliberate artistry which
+sought above all else for legibility in the printed page._
+
+
+
+
+SET UP, ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED
+BY THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC.,
+BINGHAMTON, N. Y. · PAPER
+MANUFACTURED BY THE TICONDEROGA
+PULP AND PAPER
+CO., TICONDEROGA, N. Y.,
+AND FURNISHED BY W. F.
+ETHERINGTON & CO.,
+NEW YORK · BOUND
+BY H. WOLFF. ESTATE,
+NEW YORK.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
+
+  - Typos and errors in punctuation were corrected.
+
+  - Inconsistent hyphenation has been normalized.
+
+  - Inconsistent diacritics have been normalized.
+
+  - Text between _underscores_ indicates italics.
+
+  - A Table of Contents was created for this edition.
+
+  - New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the
+    public domain.
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77078 ***