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diff --git a/77078-0.txt b/77078-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca0754b --- /dev/null +++ b/77078-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11464 @@ + +*** 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 *** |