Not many days passed after this, before the women of the harem began to
whisper among themselves in the passages and outer chambers.
'See,' they said, 'how our master favours this foreign woman, who is in
all probability a devil from the Persian mountains. Every day he will
have her to sing to him, and to bring him drink, and to sit at his feet.
And he has given her several bracelets of gold and a large ruby. Surely
it will be better for us to flatter her and show her reverence, for if
not she will before long give us sticks to eat, and we shall mourn our
folly.'
So they began to exhibit great respect for Almasta, giving her always
the best seat amongst them and setting aside for her the best portions
of the mutton, and the whitest of the rice, and the largest of the
sweetmeats and the mellowest of the old sugar dates, so that Almasta
fared sumptuously. But though she understood the reason why the women
treated her so much more kindly than before, she was careful always to
appear thankful and to speak softly to them, for she feared Zehowah, to
whom they might speak of her, and who was very powerful with the Sultan.
She was indeed secretly transported with joy, for she loved Khaled and
she began to think that before long he would marry her. This was her
only motive, also, for she was not otherwise ambitious, and though she
afterwards did many evil deeds, she did them all out of love for him.
Though Khaled was by no means soft-hearted, he could not but pity her
sometimes, seeing how she was deceived by his kindness, while he was
only making a pretence of preferring her in order to gain Zehowah's
love. Often he sat long with closed eyes while she sang to him or played
softly upon the barbat, and he tried to fancy that the voice and the
presence were Zehowah's. But her strange language disturbed him, for
there were sounds in it like the hissing of serpents and like choking,
which caused him to start suddenly just when her voice was sweetest. For
the Georgian tongue is barbarous and not like any human speech under the
sun, resembling by turns the inarticulate warbling of birds, and the
croaking of ravens, and the noises made by an angry cat. Nevertheless,
Khaled always made a pretence of being pleased, though he enjoined upon
Almasta to learn to sing in Arabic.
'For Arabic,' he said to her, 'is the language of paradise, and is
spoken by all beings among the blessed, from Adam, our father, who waits
for the resurrection in the first heaven, to the birds that fly among
the branches of the tree Sedrat, near the throne of Allah, singing
perpetually the verses of Al Koran. The black-eyed virgins reserved for
the faithful, also speak only in Arabic.'
'Shall I be of the Hur al Oyun of whom you speak?' Almasta inquired.
'How is it possible that you should be of the black-eyed ones, when your
eyes are blue?' Khaled asked, laughing. 'And besides, are you not an
unbeliever?'
'I believe what you believe, and am learning your language. There is no
Allah beside Allah.'
'And Mohammed is Allah's prophet.'
'And Mohammed is Allah's prophet,' Almasta repeated devoutly.
'Good. And the six articles of belief are also necessary.'
'Teach me,' said Almasta, laying the barbat upon the carpet and folding
her hands.
'You must believe first in Allah, and secondly in all the angels.
Thirdly you must believe in Al Koran, fourthly in the prophets of Allah,
fifthly in the resurrection of the dead and the last judgment, and
lastly that your destiny is about your neck so that you cannot escape
it.'
'I believe in everything,' said Almasta, who understood nothing of these
sacred matters. 'Shall I now be one of the Hur al Oyun?'
'But you have blue eyes.'
'When I know that I am dying, I will paint them black,' said Almasta,
laughing sweetly.
'The angels Monkar and Nakir will discover your deception,' said Khaled.
'When you are dead and buried, these two angels, who are black, will
enter your tomb. They are of extremely terrible appearance. Then they
will make you sit upright in the grave and will examine you first as to
your belief and then as to your deeds. You will then not be able to tell
lies. If you truly believe and have done good, your soul will then be
breathed out of your lips and will float in a state of rest over your
grave until the last judgment. But if not, the black angels will beat
your head with iron maces, and tear your soul from your body with a
torment greater than that caused by tearing the flesh from the bones.'
'I believe in everything,' Almasta said again, supposing that her assent
would please him.
'You find it an easy matter to believe what I tell you,' he said, for he
could see that she would have received any other faith as readily. 'But
it is not easy for a woman to enter paradise, and since it is your
destiny to have blue eyes, they will not become black. The Hur al Oyun,
however, are not mortal women and no mortal woman can ever be one of
them, since they are especially prepared for the faithful. But a man's
wives may enter paradise with him, in a glorified beauty which may not
be inferior to that of the black-eyed ones. If, for instance, Abdul
Kerim had lived and been your husband, you might, by faith and good
works, have entered heaven with him as one of his wives.'
Almasta looked long at Khaled, trying to see whether he still suspected
her, and indeed he found it very hard to do so, for her look was clear
and innocent as that of a young dove that is fed by a familiar hand.
'I would like to enter paradise with you,' said Almasta, with an
appearance of timidity. 'Is it not possible?'
'It may be possible. But I doubt it,' Khaled answered, with gravity.
In those days, while Khaled thus spent many hours with Almasta, Zehowah
often remained for a long time in another part of the harem, either
surrounded by her women, or sitting alone upon the balcony over the
court, absorbed in watching the people who came and went. The slaves
were surprised to see that Khaled seemed to prefer the society of the
Georgian to that of his wife, but they dared say nothing to Zehowah and
contented themselves with watching her face and endeavouring to find out
whether she were displeased at what was happening, or really indifferent
as she appeared to be.
Almasta herself was distrustful, supposing that Khaled and Zehowah were
in league together to entrap her into a self-accusation, and though her
heart was transported with happiness while she was with Khaled, yet she
did not forget to be cautious whenever any reference was made to Abdul
Kerim's death. She also took the long needle out of her hair and hid it
carefully in a corner, in a crevice between the pavement and the wall,
lest it should at any time fall from its place and bring suspicion upon
her.
Khaled watched Zehowah as narrowly as the women did, to see whether any
signs of jealousy showed themselves in her face, and sometimes they
talked together of Almasta.
'It is strange,' said Khaled, 'that Allah, being all powerful, should
have provided matter for dissension on earth by creating one woman more
beautiful than another, the one with blue eyes, the other with black,
the one with red hair and the other with hair needing henna to brighten
it. Are not all women the children of one mother?'
'And are not all men her sons also?' asked Zehowah. 'It is strange that
Allah, being all powerful, should have provided matter for sorrow by
creating one man with a spirit easily satisfied, and the other with a
soul tormented by discontent.'
Khaled looked fixedly at his wife, and bent his brows. But in secret he
was glad, for he supposed that she was beginning to be jealous. However,
he made a pretence of being displeased.
'Is man a rock that he should never change?' he asked. 'Or has he but
one eye with which to see but one kind of beauty? Have I not two hands,
two feet, two ears, two nostrils and two eyes?'
'That is true,' Zehowah answered. 'But a man has only one heart with
which to love, one voice with which to speak kind words, and one mouth
with which to kiss the woman he has chosen. And if a man had two souls,
they would rend him so that he would be mad.'
At this Khaled laughed a little and would gladly have shown Zehowah that
she was right. But he feared to be treated with indifference, if he
yielded to her argument so soon, and he held his peace.
'Nevertheless,' Zehowah continued, after a time, 'you are right and so
am I. You said, indeed, not many days ago that your two hands should
wither at the wrists if you took another wife, yet I advised you to do
so; and now it is clear from what you say that you wish to marry
Almasta. I am your handmaiden. Take her, therefore, and be contented,
for she loves you.'
But now Khaled was much disturbed as to what he should answer, for he
had hoped that Zehowah would break out into jealous anger. He could not
accept her advice, because of his oath and still more because of his
love for her; yet he could not send away Almasta, since by so doing he
would be giving over his last hope of obtaining Zehowah's love by
rousing her jealousy.
'Take her,' Zehowah repeated. 'The palace is wide and spacious. There is
room for us both, and for two others also, if need be, according to
divine law. Take her, and let there be contentment. Have you not said
that she is more beautiful than I?'
'No,' answered Khaled, 'I have not said so.'
'You have thought it, which is much the same, for you said that her hair
was red but that mine needed henna to brighten it. Marry her therefore,
this very day. Send for the Kadi, and order a feast, and let it be done
quickly.'
'Is it nothing to you, whether I take her or not?' Khaled asked, seeking
desperately for something to say.
'Is it for me to set myself up against the holy law? Or did any one
exact from you a promise that you would not take another wife? And if
you rashly promised anything of your own free will, the promise is not
binding seeing that there is no authority for it in Al Koran, and that
no one desires you to keep it--neither I, nor Almasta.'
Zehowah laughed at her own speech, and Khaled was too much disturbed to
notice that the laugh was rather of scorn than of mirth.
'How shall I take a woman who is perhaps a murderess?' he asked. 'Shall
I take her who was perhaps the cause of your revered father's death? May
Allah give him peace! Surely, the very thought is terrible to me, and I
will not do it.'
'Will you convict her without witnesses? And where is your witness? Did
not the physician explain the reason of the death, and did he suspect
that there was anything unnatural about it? But if you still think that
she destroyed my father and Abdul Kerim--peace on them both--why do you
make her sit all day long at your feet and sing to you in her barbarous
language, which resembles the barking of jackals? And why do you command
her to bring you drink and fan you when it is hot, and you sleep in the
afternoon? This shows a forgiving and trustful disposition.'
'This is an unanswerable argument,' thought Khaled, being very much
perplexed. 'Can I answer that I do all this in order to see whether
Zehowah is jealous? She would certainly laugh to herself and say in her
heart that she has married a fool.'
So he said nothing, but bent his brows again, and endeavoured to seem
angry. But Zehowah took no notice of his face and continued to urge him
to marry Almasta.
'Have you ever seen such a woman?' she asked. 'Have you ever seen such
eyes? Are they not like twin heavens of a deep blue, each having a
shining sun in the midst? Is not her hair like seventy thousand pieces
of gold poured out upon the carpet from a height? Her nose is a straight
piece of pure ivory. Her lips are redder than pomegranates when they are
ripe, and her cheeks are as smooth as silk. Moreover she is as white as
milk, freshly taken from the camel, whereas my hands are of the colour
of blanket-bread before it is baked.'
'Your hands are much smaller than hers,' said Khaled, who could not
suffer Zehowah to discredit her own beauty.
'I do not know,' she answered, looking at her fingers. 'But they are
less white. And Almasta is far more beautiful than I. You yourself said
so.'
'I never said so,' Khaled replied, more and more perplexed. 'There are
two kinds of beauty. That is what I said. Allah has willed it. Almasta
is a slave, and her hands are large. It is a pity, for she is like a
mare that has many good points, but whose hoofs are overgrown through
too much idleness in the stable. I say that there are two kinds of
beauty. Yours is that of the free woman of a pure and beautiful race;
hers is that of the slave accidentally born beautiful.'
Zehowah gathered up her three long black tresses and laid them across
her knees as she sat. Then she shook off her golden bracelets, one after
the other, to the number of a score and heaped them upon the hair.
'Which do you like best?' she asked. 'The black or the gold? The day or
the night? Here you see them together and can judge fairly between
them.'
Khaled sought for a crafty answer and made a pretence of pondering the
matter deeply.
'After the night,' he said at last, 'the day is very bright and
glorious. But when we have looked on it long, only the night can bring
rest and peace.'
He was pleased with himself when he had made this answer, supposing that
Zehowah would find nothing to say. But he had only laid a new trap for
himself.
'That is quite true,' she answered, laughing. 'That is also the reason
why Allah made the day and the night to follow each other in succession,
lest men should grow weary of eternal light or eternal darkness. For the
same reason also, since you have a wife whose hair is black, I counsel
you to take a red-haired one. In this way you will obtain that variety
which the taste of man craves.'
'If I follow your advice, you will regret it,' said Khaled.
'You think I shall be jealous, but you are mistaken. I am what I am. Can
another woman make me more or less beautiful? Moreover, I shall always
be first in the palace, though you take three other wives. The others
will rise up when you come in, but I shall remain sitting. I shall
always be the first wife.'
'Undoubtedly, that is your right,' Khaled replied. 'Do you suppose that
I wish to put any woman in your place?'
Then Zehowah laughed, and laid her hand upon Khaled's arm.
'How foolish men are!' she exclaimed. 'Do you think you can deceive me?
Do you imagine, because I have answered you and talked with you to-day,
and listened to your arguments, that I do not understand your heart? Oh,
Khaled, this is true which you often say of yourself, that your wit is
in your arm. If I were a warrior and stood before you with a sword in my
hand, you could argue better, for you would cut off my head, and the
argument would end suddenly. But Allah has not made you subtle, and
words in your mouth are of no more avail than a sword would be in mine,
for you entangle yourself in your own language, as I should wound myself
if I tried to handle a weapon.'
At this Khaled was much disconcerted, and he stroked his beard
thoughtfully, looking away so as not to meet her eyes.
'I do not know what you mean,' he said, at last. 'You certainly imagine
something which has no existence.'
'I imagine nothing, for I have seen the truth, ever since the first day
when you desired to be alone with Almasta. You are only foolishly trying
to make me jealous of her, in order that I may love you better.'
When Khaled saw that she understood him, he was without any defence, for
he had built a wall of sand for himself, like a child playing in the
desert, which the first breath of wind causes to crumble, and the second
blast leaves no trace of it behind.
'And am I foolish, because I have done this thing?' he cried, not
attempting to deny the truth. 'Am I a fool because I desire your love?
But it is folly to speak of it, for you will reproach me and say that I
am discontented, and will offer me another woman for my wife. Go. Leave
me alone. If you do not love me, the sight of you is as vinegar poured
into a fresh wound, and as salt rubbed into eyes that are sore with the
sand. Go. Why do you stay? Do you not believe me? Do you wish me to kill
you that I may have peace from you? It is a pity that you did not marry
one of the hundred suitors who came before me, for you certainly loved
one of them, since you cannot love me. You doubtless loved the Indian
prince. Would you have him back? I can give you his bones, for I slew
him with my own hands and buried him in the Red Desert, where his soul
is sitting upon a heap of sand, waiting for the day of resurrection.'
Then Zehowah was greatly astonished, for neither she nor any one else
had ever known what had been the end of that suitor, and after waiting a
long time, his people who had been with him had departed sorrowing to
their own country, and she had heard no more of them.
'What is this?' she asked in amazement. 'Why did you kill him? And how
could you have done this thing unseen, since he was guarded by many
attendants?'
'I took him out of the palace in the night, when all were asleep, and
then I killed him,' said Khaled, and Zehowah could get no other answer,
for he would not confess that he had been one of the genii, lest she
should not believe the truth, or else, believing, should be afraid of
him in the future.
'I will give you his bones,' he said, 'if you desire them, for I know
where they are, and you certainly loved him, and are still mourning for
him. If he could be alive, I would kill him again.'
'I never loved him,' Zehowah answered, at last. 'How was it possible?
But I would perhaps have married him, hoping to convert all his people
to the true faith.'
'As you have married me in the hope, or the assurance, of giving your
people a just king.'
'You are angry, Khaled. And, indeed, I could be angry, too, but with
myself and not with you, as you are with me, though it be for the same
reason. For I begin to see and understand why you are discontented, and
indeed I will do what I can to satisfy you.'
'You must love me, as I love you, if you would save me from
destruction,' said Khaled.
Though Zehowah could not comprehend the meaning of the words, she saw by
his face that he was terribly moved, and she herself began to be more
sorry for him.
'Indeed, Khaled,' she said, 'I will try to love you from this hour. But
it is a hard thing, because you cannot explain it, and it is not easy to
learn what cannot be explained. Do you think that all women love their
husbands in this way you mean? Am I unlike all the rest?'
Khaled took her hand and held it, and looked into her eyes.
'Love is the first mystery of the world,' he said. 'Death is the second.
Between the two there is nothing but a weariness darkened with shadows
and thick with mists. What is gold? A cinder that glows in the darkness
for a moment and falls away to a cold ash in our hand when we have taken
it. But love is a treasure which remains. What is renown? A cry uttered
in the bazar by men whose minds are subject to change as their bodies
are to death. But the voice of love is heard in paradise, singing beside
the fountains Tasnim and Salsahil. What is power? A net with which to
draw wealth and fame from the waters of life? To what end? We must die.
Or is power a sword to kill our enemies? If their time is come they will
die without the sword. Or is it a stick to purify the hides of fools?
The fool will die also, like his master, and both will be forgotten. But
they who love shall enter the seventh heaven together, according to the
promise of Allah. Death is stronger than man or woman, but love is
stronger than death, and all else is but a vision seen in the desert,
having no reality.'
'I will try to understand it, for I see that you are very unhappy,' said
Zehowah.
She was silent after this, for Khaled's words were earnest and sank into
her soul. Yet the more she tried to imagine what the passion in him
could be like, the less she was able to understand it, for some of
Khaled's actions had been foolish, but she supposed that there must
have been some wisdom in them, having its foundation in the nature of
love.
'What he says is true,' she thought. 'I married him in order to give my
people a just and brave king, and he is both brave and just. And I am
certainly a good wife, for I should be dissolved in shame if another man
were to see my face, and moreover I am careful of his wants, and I take
his kefiyeh from his head with my own hands, and smooth the cushions for
him and bring him food and drink when he desires it. Or have I withheld
from him any of the treasures of the palace, or stood in the way of his
taking another wife? Until to-day, I thought indeed that this talk of
love meant but little, and that he spoke of it because he desired an
excuse for marrying Almasta who loves him. But when I said at a venture
that he wished to make me jealous, he confessed the truth. Now all the
tales of love told by the old women are of young persons who have seen
each other from a distance, but are hindered from marrying. And we are
already married. Surely, it is very hard to understand.'
After this Khaled never called Almasta to sit at his feet and sing to
him, as he had done before, and Zehowah was constantly with him in her
stead. At first Almasta supposed that Khaled only made a pretence of
disregarding her, out of respect for his wife, but she soon perceived
that he was indifferent and no longer noticed her. She then grew fierce
and jealous, and her voice was not heard singing in the harem; but she
went and took her needle again from the crevice in the pavement and hid
it in her hair, and though Zehowah often called her, when Khaled was not
in the house, she made as though she understood even less of the Arabic
language than before and sat stupidly on the carpet, gazing at her
hands. Zehowah wearied of her silence, for she understood the reason of
it well enough.
'I am tired of this woman,' she said to Khaled. 'Do you think I am
jealous of her now?'
Khaled smiled a little, but said nothing, only shaking his head.
'I am tired of her,' Zehowah repeated. 'She sits before me like a sack
of barley in a grainseller's shop, neither moving nor speaking.'
'She is yours,' Khaled answered. 'Send her away. Or we will give her in
marriage to one of the sheikhs who will take her away to the desert. In
this way she will not be able even to visit you except when her husband
comes into the city.'
But they decided nothing at that time. Some days later Khaled was
sitting alone upon a balcony, Zehowah having gone to the bath, when
Almasta came suddenly before him and threw herself at his feet, beating
her forehead and tearing her hair, though not indeed in a way to injure
it.
'What have I done?' she cried. 'Why is my lord displeased?'
Khaled looked at her in surprise, but answered nothing at first.
'Why are my lord's eyes like frozen pools by the Kura, and why is his
forehead like Kasbek in a mist?'
Khaled laughed a little at her words.
'Kasbek is far from Riad,' he answered, 'and the waters of the Kura do
not irrigate the Red Desert. I am not displeased. On the contrary, I
will give you a husband and a sufficient dowry. Go in peace.'
But Almasta remained where she was, weeping and beating her forehead.
'Let me stay!' she cried. 'Let me stay, for I love you. I will eat the
dust under your feet. Only let me stay.'
'I think not,' Khaled answered. 'You weary Zehowah with your silence and
your sullenness.'
'Let me stay!' she repeated, over and over again.
She was not making any pretence of grief, for the tears ran down
abundantly and stained the red leather of Khaled's shoes. Though he was
hard-hearted he was not altogether cruel, for a man who loves one woman
greatly is somewhat softened towards all such as do not stand
immediately in his way.
'It is true,' he thought, 'that I have given this woman some occasion of
hope, for I have treated her kindly during many days, and she has
probably supposed that I would marry her. For she is less keen-sighted
than Zehowah, and moreover she loves me.'
'Do not drive me out!' cried Almasta. 'For I shall die if I cannot see
your face. What have I done?'
'You have indeed done nothing worthy of death, for I cannot prove that
you killed Abdul Kerim. I will therefore give you a good husband and you
shall be happy.'
But Almasta would not go away, and embracing his knees she looked up
into his face, imploring him to let her remain. Khaled could not but see
that she was beautiful, for the mid-day light fell upon her white face
and her red lips, and made shadows in her hair of the colour of mellow
dates, and reflections as bright as gold when the burnisher is still in
the goldsmith's hand. Though he cared nothing for Almasta and little for
her sorrow, his eye was pleased and he smiled.
Then he looked up and saw Zehowah standing before him, just as she had
come from the bath, wrapped in loose garments of silk and gold. He gazed
at her attentively for there was a distant gleam of light in her eyes
and her cheeks were warm, though she stood in the shadow, so that he
thought she had never been more beautiful, and he did not care to look
at Almasta's face again.
'Why is Almasta lamenting in this way?' Zehowah asked.
'She desires to stay in the palace,' Khaled answered; 'but I have told
her that she shall be married, and yet she wishes to stay.'
'Let her be married quickly, then. Is she a free woman, that she should
resist, or is she rich that she should refuse alms? Let her be married.'
'There is a certain young man, cousin to Abdul Kerim, a Bedouin of pure
descent. Let him take her, if he will, and let the marriage be
celebrated to-morrow.'
But Almasta shook her head, and her tears never ceased from flowing.
'You will marry him,' said Khaled. 'And if any harm comes to him, I will
cause you to be put to death before the second call to prayer on the
following morning.'
When Almasta heard this, her tears were suddenly dried and her lips
closed tightly. She rose from the floor and retired to a distance within
the room.
On that day Khaled sent for the young man of whom he had spoken, whose
name was Abdullah ibn Mohammed el Herir, and offered him Almasta for a
wife. And he accepted her joyfully, for he had heard of her wonderful
beauty, and was moreover much gratified by being given a woman whom the
former Sultan would probably have married if he had lived. Khaled also
gave him a grey mare as a wedding gift, and a handsome garment.
The marriage was therefore celebrated in the customary manner, and no
harm came to Abdullah. But as the autumn had now set in, he soon
afterwards left the city, taking Almasta with him, to live in tents,
after the manner of the Bedouins.