THE ARABIAN STORY-TELLER
The reader will doubtless refer the circumstance to the jealousy which
is supposed to prompt the Faithful where women are required to pass
before men; yet the best evidence of the Governor's thoughtfulness for
his female guests met them at their approach to the Castle. There was
not a man visible except a sentinel on the battlement above the gate,
and he stood faced inwardly, making it impossible for him to see them
when they drew near.
"Where are the horsemen of whom you spoke? And the garrison, where are
they?" Sergius asked the Prince.
The latter shrugged his shoulders, as he answered:
"They will return presently."
Further proof of the same thoughtfulness was presented when the two
chairs were set down in the broad stone-paved passage receiving from
the front door. The sole occupant there was a man, tall as the monk,
but unnaturally slender; indeed, his legs resembled those of a lay
figure, so thin were they, while the residue of his person, although
clad in a burnoose gorgeously embroidered, would have reminded a modern
of the skeletons surgeons keep for office furniture. Besides blackness
deep as the unlighted corner of a cellar, he had no beard. The Prince
of India recognized him as one of the indispensables of an Eastern
harem, and made ready to obey him without dissent--only the
extravagance of the broidery on the burnoose confirmed him in the
opinion that the chief just arrived outranked the Governor. "This is
the Kislar Aga of a Prince," he said to himself.
The eunuch, like one accustomed to the duty, superintended the
placement of the chairs; then, resting the point of a very bright
crescent-shaped sword on the floor, he said, in a voice more incisive
than the ordinary feminine tenor:
"I will now conduct the ladies, and guard them. No one will presume to
follow."
The Prince replied: "It is well; but they will be comforted if
permitted to abide together."
He spoke with deference, and the black responded:
"This is a fort, not a palace. There is but one chamber for the two."
"And if I wish to communicate with them or they with me?"
"_Bismillah!_" the eunuch replied. "They are not prisoners. I will
deliver what thou hast for them or they for thee."
Thereupon the Princess and Lael stepped from the chairs, and went with
their guide. When they were gone, word sped through the Castle, and
with clamor and clangor, doors opened, and men poured forth in
companies. And again the Prince reflected: "Such discipline pertains to
princes only."
Now the office of eunuch was by no means an exclusive pagan
institution; time out of mind it had been a feature of Byzantine
courts; and Constantine Dragases, the last, and probably the most
Christian of Greek emperors, not only tolerated, but recognized it as
honorable. With this explanation the reader ought not to be surprised
if the Princess Irene accepted the guidance offered her without fear or
even hesitation. Doubtless she had been in similar keeping many times.
Climbing a number of stairways, the eunuch brought his fair charges
into a part of the Castle where there were signs of refinement. The
floors were swept; the doors garnished with rugs; a delicate incense
lingered in the air; and to rescue the tenants, whoever they might be,
from darkness, lighted lamps swung from the ceiling, and were affixed
to the walls. Stopping finally before a portiere, he held it aside
while saying:
"Enter here, and be at home. Upon the table yonder there is a little
bell; ring, and I will answer."
And seeing Lael clinging closely to the Princess, he added: "Be not
afraid. Know ye rather that my master, when a child, heard the story of
Hatim, a warrior and poet of the Arabs, and ever since he has lived
believing hospitality a virtue without which there can be no godliness.
Do not forget the bell."
They entered and were alone.
To their amazement the room was more than comfortably furnished. What
may be termed a chandelier swung from the ceiling with many lamps ready
for lighting; under it there was a circular divan; then along the four
sides a divan extended continuously, with pillows at the corners in
heaps. Matting covered the floor, and here and there rugs of gay dyes
offered noticeable degrees of warmth and coloring. Large trays filled
the deep recesses of the windows, and though the smell of musk
overpowered the sweet outgivings of the roses blooming in them, they
sufficed to rouge the daylight somewhat scantily admitted. The
roughness and chill of the walls were provided against by woollen
drapery answering for arras.
They went first to one of the windows, and peered out. Below them the
world was being deluged with fiercely driven rain. There was the
Bosphorus lashed into waves already whitened with foam. The European
shore was utterly curtained from sight. Gust after gust raved around
the Castle, whistling and moaning; and as she beheld the danger
escaped, the Princess thought of the saying of the Prince of India and
repeated it in a spirit of thanksgiving: "By the will of God thou art
here."
The reflection reconciled her to the situation, and led on till
presently the face and martial figure of the Governor reproduced
themselves to her fancy. How handsome he appeared--how courteous--how
young!--scarcely older than herself! How readily she had yielded to his
invitation! She blushed at the thought.
Lael interrupted the revery, which was not without charm, and for that
reason would likely return, by bringing her a child's slipper found
near the central divan; and while examining the embroidery of
many-colored beads adorning it, she divined the truth.
Isolated as the Castle was on a frontier of the Islamic world, and
crowded with men and material of war, yet the Governor was permitted
his harem, and this was its room in common. Here his wives, many or
few, for the time banished to some other quarters, were in the habit of
meeting for the enjoyment of the scant pleasantries afforded by life
like theirs.
Again she was interrupted. The arras over one of the walls was pushed
aside, and two women came in with refreshments. A third followed with a
small table of Turkish pattern which she placed on the floor. The
viands, very light and simple, were set upon the table; then a fourth
one came bringing an armful of shawls and wraps. The last was a Greek,
and she explained that the Lord of the Castle, her master, was pleased
to make his guests comfortable. In the evening later a more substantial
repast would be served. Meantime she was appointed to wait on them.
The guests, assured by the presence of other women in the Castle,
partook of the refection; after which the table was removed, and the
attendants for the present dismissed. Wrapping themselves then in
shawls, for they had not altogether escaped the rain, and were
beginning to feel the mists stealing into the chamber through the
unglazed windows, they took to the divan, piling the cushions about
them defensively.
In this condition, comfortable, cosey, perfectly at rest, and with the
full enjoyment of the sensations common to every one in the midst of a
novel adventure, the Princess proceeded to draw from Lael an account of
herself; and the ingenuousness of the girl proved very charming,
coupled as it was with a most unexpected intelligence. The case was the
not unusual one of education wholly unsupported by experience. The real
marvel to the inquisitor was that she should have made discovery of two
such instances the same day, and been thrown into curious relation with
them. And as women always run parallels between persons who interest
them, the Princess was struck with the similarities between Sergius and
Lael. They were both young, both handsome, both unusually well informed
and at the same time singularly unsophisticated. In the old pagan
style, what did Fate mean by thus bringing them together? She
determined to keep watch of the event.
And when, in course of her account, Lael spoke of the Prince of India,
Irene awoke at once to a mystery connected with him. Lacking the full
story, the narrator could give just enough of it to stimulate wonder.
Who was he? Where was Cipango? He was rich--learned--knew all the
sciences, all the languages--he had visited countries everywhere, even
the inhabited islands. To be sure, he had not appeared remarkable;
indeed, she gave him small attention when he was before her; she
recalled him chiefly by his eyes and velvet pelisse. While she was
mentally resolving to make better study of him, the eunuch appeared
under the portiere, and, coming forward, said, with a half salaam to
the Princess:
"My master does not wish his guests to think themselves forgotten. The
kinswoman of the most august Emperor Constantine, he remembers, is
without employment to lighten the passage of a time which must be
irksome to her. He humbly prays her to accept his sympathy, and sends
me to say that a famous story-teller, going to the court of the Sultan
at Adrianople, arrived at the Castle to-day. Would the Princess be
pleased to hear him?"
"In what tongue does he recite?" she asked.
"Arabic, Turkish, Greek, Latin, Hebrew," was the reply.
"Oh, a most wise man!"
Irene consulted Lael, and thinking to offer her amusement, assented to
the suggestion, with thanks to the Governor.
"Have the veils ready," the eunuch said, as he retreated backward to
the door. "The story-teller is a man, and he will come directly."
The story-teller was ushered in. He walked to the divan where his
auditors sat, slowly, as if he knew himself under close observation,
and courted it.
Now caravans were daily shows in Constantinople. The little bell of the
donkey leading its string of laden camels through the narrow streets
might be heard any hour, and the Shaykh in charge was almost invariably
an Arab. So the Princess had seen many of the desert-born, and was
familiar with their peculiarities; never, however, had chance brought a
nobler specimen of the race before her. As he approached, stepping as
modern stage heroes are wont, she saw the red slippers, the white shirt
falling to the ankles and girdled at the waist, its bosom a capacious
pocket, the white and red striped cloak over the shoulders. She marked
the material of which they were made, the shirt of selected Angora
wool, the cloak of camel's hair, in its fineness iridescent and soft as
velvet. She saw in the girdle an empty scabbard for a yatagan
elaborately covered with brilliants. She saw on the head a kerchief of
mixed silk and cotton, tasselled, heavily striated red and yellow, and
secured by the usual cord; but she scarcely more than noticed them--the
air of the man, high, stately, king-like, was a superior attraction,
and she gazed at his face unconscious that her own was uncovered.
The features were regular, the complexion sunburned to the hue of
reddish copper, the beard thin, the nose sharp, the cheeks hollow, the
eyes, through the double shade of brows and kerchief, glittered like
balls of polished black amber. His hands were crossed above the girdle
after the manner of Eastern servants before acknowledged superiors; his
salutation was expressive of most abject homage; yet when he raised
himself, and met the glance of the Princess, his eyes lingered, and
brightened, and directly he cast off or forgot his humility, and looked
lordlier than an Emir boasting of his thousand tents, with ten spears
to each, and a score of camels to the spear. She endured the gaze
awhile; for it seemed she had seen the face before--where, she could
not tell; and when, as presently happened, she began to feel the
brightness of the eyes intenser growing, the sensation reminded her of
the Governor at the landing. Could this be he? No, the countenance here
was of a man already advanced in life. And why should the Governor
resort to disguise? The end, nevertheless, was the same as on the
landing--she drew down the veil. Then he became humble again, and
spoke, his eyes downcast, his hands crossed:
"This faithful servant"--he pointed to the eunuch "my friend"--the
eunuch crossed his hands, and assumed an attitude of pleased
attention--"brought me from his master--may the most Merciful and
Compassionate continue a pillow to the good man here and to his soul
hereafter!--how a kinswoman of the Emperor whose capital is to the
earth a star, and he as the brightness thereof, had taken refuge with
him from the storm, and was now his guest, and languishing for want of
amusement. Would I tell her a story? I have a horde of parables, tales,
and traditions, and many nations have contributed to it; but, alas, O
Princess! they are simple, and such as beguile tentmen and tentwomen
shut in by the desert, their fancies tender as children's. I fear your
laughter. But here I am; and as the night bird sings when the moon is
risen, because the moon is beautiful and must be saluted, even so I am
obedient. Command me."
The speech was in Greek, with the slightest imperfection of accent; at
the conclusion the Princess was silent.
"Knowest thou"--she at length said--"knowest thou of one Hatim,
renowned as a warrior and poet of the Arabs?"
The eunuch saw the reference, and smiled. Asking of Hatim now was only
another form of inquiry after his master; not merely had the latter
been in her mind; she wished to know more about him. On his part, the
story-teller arose from his servile posture, and asked with the
animation of one to whom a favorite theme is presented:
"Noble lady, know you aught of the desert?"
"I have never been there," the Princess answered.
"Though not beautiful, it is the home of mysteries," he said, with
growing enthusiasm. "When he whom in the same breath you worship as God
and the Son of God--an opposition beyond the depth of our simple
faith--made ready to proclaim himself, he went for a time into the
Wilderness, and dwelt there. So likewise our Prophet, seeing the dawn
of his day, betook himself to Hiva, a rock, bleak, barren, waterless.
Why, O Princess, if not for purification, and because God of preference
has founded his dwelling there, wasting it indeed the better to nurse
his goodness in a perfected solitude? Granting this, why may I not
assert without shocking you that the sons of the desert are the noblest
of men?--
"Such was Hatim!
"In the Hijaz and the Nejd, they tell of him thus:
"In the day the Compassionate set about world-making, which is but a
pastime with him, nor nearly so much as nest-building to a mother-dove,
he rested. The mountains and rivers and seas were in their beds, and
the land was variegated to please him, here a forest, there a grassy
plain; nothing remained unfinished except the sand oceans, and they
only wanted water. He rested.
"Now, if, with their sky, a sun-field in the day, a gallery of stars at
night, and their winds, flying from sea to sea, but gathering no taint,
the deserts are treeless, and unknowing the sweetness of gardens and
the glory of grass, it was not by accident or forgetfulness; for with
him, the Compassionate, the Merciful, there are no accidents or lapses
of any kind. He is all attention and ever present. Thus the Throne
verse--'Drowsiness overcomes him not nor sleep.... His firmament spans
the Heaven and the Earth, and the care of them does not distress him.'
"Why then the yellowness and the burning, the sameness and solitude,
and the earth intolerant of rain and running stream, and of roads and
paths--why, if there was neither accident nor forgetfulness?
"He is the High and the Great! Accuse him not!
"In that moment of rest, not from weariness or overburden, but to
approve the work done, and record the approval as a judgment, he said,
speaking to his Almightiness as to a familiar: 'As it is it shall stay.
A time will come when with men I, and the very name of me, shall go out
utterly like the green of last year's leaf. He who walks in a garden
thinks of it only; but he who abides in a desert, wanting to see the
beautiful, must look into the sky, and looking there he shall be
reminded of me, and say aloud and as a lover, 'There is no God but him,
the Compassionate, the Merciful.... The eyes see him not, but he seeth
the eyes; and He is the Gracious, the Knowing'.... So also comes a time
when religion shall be without heart, dead, and the quickening of
worship lost in idolatry; when men shall cry, God, my God, to stones
and graven images, and sing to hear their singing, and the loud music
it goes with. And that time shall be first in lands of growth and
freshness, in cities where comforts and luxuries are as honey in hives
after the flowering of palms. Wherefore--Lo, the need of deserts. There
I shall never be forgotten. And out of them, out of their hardness and
heat, out of their yellow distances and drouth, religion shall arise
again, and go forth purified unto universality; for I shall be always
present there, a life-giver. And against those days of evil, I shall
keep men there, the best of their kind, and their good qualities shall
not rust; they shall be brave, for I may want swords; they shall keep
the given word, for as I am the Truth, so shall my chosen be; there
shall be no end to charity among them, for in such lands charity is
life, and must take every form, friendship, love of one another, love
of giving, and hospitality, unto which are riches and plenty. And in
their worship, I shall be first, and honor next. And as Truth is the
Soul of the World, it being but another of my names, for its salvation
they shall speak with tongues of fire, this one an orator, that one a
poet; and living in the midst of death, they shall fear me not at all,
but dishonor more. Mine are the Sons of the Desert--the
Word-Keepers!--the Unconquered and Conquerless! For my name's sake, I
nominate them Mine, and I alone am the High and the Great.... And there
shall be amongst them exemplars of this virtue and that one singly; and
at intervals through the centuries standards for emulation among the
many, a few, in whom all the excellences shall be blent in indivisible
comeliness.'
"So came Hatim, of the Bene-Tayyi, lustrous as the moon of Ramazan to
eager watchers on high hilltops, and better than other men, even as all
the virtues together are better than any one of them, excepting charity
and love of God.
"Now Hatim's mother was a widow, poor, and without relations, but
beloved by the Compassionate, and always in his care, because she was
wise beyond the men of her time, and kept his laws, as they were known,
and taught them to her son. One day a great cry arose in the village.
Everybody rushed to see the cause, and then joined in the clamor.
"Up in the north there was an appearance the like of which had never
been beheld, nor were there any to tell what it was from hearsay. Some
pooh-poohed, saying, contemptuously:
"'Tis only a cloud.'
"Others, observing how rapidly it came, in movement like a bird sailing
on outspread motionless wings, said:
"'A roc! A roc!'
"When the object was nearer, a few of the villagers, in alarm, ran to
their houses, shrieking:
"'Israfil, Israfil! He is bringing the end of time!'
"Soon the sight was nearly overhead; then it was going by, its edge
overhead, the rest of it extending eastwardly; and it was long and
broad as a pasture for ten thousand camels, and horses ten thousand. It
had no likeness earthly except a carpet of green silk; nor could those
standing under describe what bore it along. They thought they heard the
sound of a strong wind, but as the air above far and near was full of
birds great and small, birds of the water as well as the land, all
flying evenly with the carpet, and making a canopy of their wings, and
shade deeper than a cloud's, the beholders were uncertain whether the
birds or the wind served it. In passing, it dipped gently, giving them
a view of what it carried--a throne of pearl and rainbow, and a crowned
King sitting in majesty; at his left hand, an army of spirits, at his
right, an army of men in martial sheen.
"While the prodigy was before them, the spectators stirred not; nor was
there one brave enough to speak; most of them with their eyes devoured
it all, King and throne, birds, men and spirits; though afterwards
there was asking:
"'Did you see the birds?'
"'No.'
"'The spirits?'
"'No.'
"'The men?'
"'I saw only the King upon His throne.'
"In the passing, also, a man, in splendor of apparel, stood on the
carpet's edge and shouted:
"'God is great! I bear witness there is no God but God.'
"The same instant something fell from his hand. When the marvel was out
of sight in the south, some bethought them, and went to see what it was
which fell. They came back laughing, 'It was only a gourd, and as we
have much better on our camel-saddles, we threw it away.'
"But the mother of Hatim, listening to the report, was not content. In
her childhood she heard what was tradition then; how Solomon, at the
completion of his temple in Jerusalem, journeyed to Mecca upon a carpet
of silk wafted by the wind, with men, spirits, and birds. Wherefore,
saying to herself, 'It was Solomon going to Mecca. Not for nothing
threw he the gourd,' she went alone, and brought it in, and opened it,
finding three seeds--one red, like a ruby; a second blue, like a
sapphire; the third green, like an emerald.
"Now she might have sold the seeds, for they were beautiful as gems cut
for a crown, and enriched herself; but Hatim was all the world to her.
They were for him, she said, and getting a brown nut such as washes up
from vines in the sea, she cut it, put the treasures into it, sealed
them there, and tied them around the boy's neck.
"'Thanks, O Solomon,' she said. 'There is no God but God; and I shall
teach the lesson to my Hatim in the morning, when _al hudhud_ flies for
water; at noon, when it whistles to itself in the shade; and at night,
when it draws a wing over its head to darken the darkness, and sleep.'
"And from that day through all his days Hatim wore the brown nut with
the three seeds in it; nor was there ever such an amulet before or
since; for, besides being defended by the genii who are Solomon's
servants, he grew one of the exemplars promised by God, having in
himself every virtue. No one braver than he; none so charitable; none
so generous and merciful; none so eloquent; none on whose lips poetry
was such sweet speech for the exalting of souls; above all, never had
there been such a keeper of his word of promise.
"And of this judge you by some of the many things they tell of him.
"A famine fell upon the land. It was when Hatim had become Sheik of his
tribe. The women and children were perishing. The men could no more
than witness their suffering. They knew not whom to accuse; they knew
no one to receive a prayer. The time predicted was come--the name of
God had gone out utterly, like the green of last year's leaf. In the
Sheik's tent even, as with the poorest, hunger could not be
allayed--there was nothing to eat. The last camel had been
devoured--one horse remained. More than once the good man went out to
kill him, but the animal was so beautiful--so affectionate--so fleet!
And the desert was not wide enough to hold his fame! How much easier to
say, 'Another day--to-morrow it may rain.'
"He sat in his tent telling his wife and children stories, for he was
not merely the best warrior of his day; he was the most renowned poet
and storyteller. Riding into battle, his men would say, 'Sing to us, O
Hatim--sing, and we will fight.' And they he loved best, listening to
him, had nigh forgot their misery, when the curtain of the tent was
raised.
"'Who is there?' he asked.
"'Thy neighbor,' and the voice was a woman's. 'My children are
anhungred and crying, and I have nothing for them. Help, O Sheik, help
or they die.'
"'Bring them here,' he said, rising.
"'She is not worse off than we,' said his wife, 'nor are her children
more hungry than ours. What will you do?'
"'The appeal was to me,' he answered.
"And passing out, he slew the horse, and kindled a fire; then, while
the stranger and her children were sharing piece by piece with his own,
'Shame, shame!' he said, 'that ye alone should eat;' and going through
the dowar, he brought the neighbors together, and he only went hungry.
There was no more of the meat left. Was ever one merciful like Hatim?
In combat, he gave lives, but took none. Once an antagonist under his
foot, called to him: 'Give me thy spear, Hatim,' and he gave it.
"'Foolish man!' his brethren exclaimed.
"'What else was there?' he answered. 'Did not the poor man ask a gift
of me?'
"Never a captive besought his help vainly. On a journey once, a
prisoner begged him to buy his liberty; but he was without the money
required, and on that account he was sorely distressed. To his
entreaties, the strangers listened hard-heartedly; at last he said to
them:
"Am not I--Hatim--good as he? Let him go, and take me.'
"And knocking the chains from the unfortunate, he had them put on
himself, and wore them until the ransom came.
"In his eyes a poet was greater than a king, and than singing a song
well the only thing better was being the subject of a song.
Perpetuation by tombs he thought vulgar; so the glory unremembered in
verse deserved oblivion. Was it wonderful he gave and kept giving to
story-tellers, careless often if what he thus disposed of was another's?
"Once in his youth--and at hearing this, O Princess, the brown-faced
sons of the desert, old and young, laugh, and clap their hands--he gave
of his grandfather's store until the prudent old man, intending to cure
him of his extravagance, sent him to tend his herds in the country.
Alas!
"Across the plain Hatim one day beheld a caravan, and finding it
escorting three poets to the court of the King of El-Herah, he invited
them to stop with him, and while he killed a camel for each of them,
they recited songs in his praise, and that of his kin. When they wished
to resume the journey, he detained them.
"'There is no gift like the gift of song,' he said. 'I will do better
by you than will he, the King to whom you are going. Stay with me, and
for every verse you write I will give you a camel. Behold the herd!'
"And at departing, they had each a hundred camels, and he three hundred
verses.
"'Where is the herd?' the grandfather asked, when next he came to the
pasture.
"'See thou. Here are songs in honor of our house,' Hatim answered,
proudly--'songs by great poets; and they will be repeated until all
Arabia is filled with our glory.'
"'Alas! Thou hast ruined me!' the elder cried, beating his breast.
"'What!' said Hatim, indignantly. 'Carest thou more for the dirty
brutes than for the crown of honor I bought with them?'"
Here the Arab paused. The recitation, it is to be remarked, had been
without action, or facial assistance--a wholly unornate delivery; and
now he kept stately silence. His eyes, intensely bright in the shadow
of the _kufiyeh,_ may have produced the spell which held the Princess
throughout; or it may have been the eyes and voice; or, quite as
likely, the character of Hatim touched a responsive chord in her breast.
"I thank you," she said, adding presently: "In saying I regret the
story ended so soon, I pray you receive my opinion of its telling. I
doubt if Hatim himself could have rendered it better."
The Arab recognized the compliment with the faintest of bows, but made
no reply in words. Irene then raised her veil, and spoke again.
"Thy Hatim, O eloquent Arab, was warrior and poet, and, as thou hast
shown him to me, he was also a philosopher. In what age did he live?"
"He was a shining light in the darkness preceding the appearance of the
Prophet. That period is dateless with us."
"It is of little consequence," she continued. "Had he lived in our day,
he would have been more than poet, warrior and philosopher--he would be
a Christian. His charity and love of others, his denial of self, sound
like the Christ. Doubtless he could have died for his fellow-men. Hast
thou not more of him? Surely he lived long and happily."
"Yes," said the Arab, with a flash of the eyes to denote his
appreciation of the circumstance. "He is reported to have been the most
wretched of men. His wife--I pray you will observe I am speaking by the
tradition--his wife had the power, so dreadful to husbands, of raising
Iblis at pleasure. It delighted her to beat him and chase him from his
tent; at last she abandoned him."
"Ah!" the Princess exclaimed. "His charities were not admirable in her
eyes."
"The better explanation, Princess, may be found in a saying we have in
the desert--'A tall man may wed a small woman, but a great soul shall
not enter into bonds with a common one.'"
There was silence then, and as the gaze of the story-teller was again
finding a fascination in her face, Irene took refuge behind her veil,
but said, presently:
"With permission, I will take the story of Hatim for mine; but here is
my friend--what hast thou for her?"
The story-teller turned to Lael.
"Her pleasure shall be mine," he said.
"I should like something Indian," the girl answered, timidly, for the
eyes oppressed her also.
"Alas! India has no tales of love. Her poetry is about gods and
abstract religions. Wherefore, if I may choose, I will a tale from
Persia next. In that country there was a verse-maker called Firdousi,
and he wrote a great poem, _The Shah Nameh_, with a warrior for hero.
This is how Rustem, in single combat, killed Sohrab, not knowing the
youth was his son until after the awful deed was done."
The tale was full of melancholy interest, and told with singular grace;
but it continued until after nightfall; of which the party was
admonished by the attendants coming to light the lamps. At the
conclusion, the Arab courteously apologized for the time he had wrested
from them.
"In dealing with us, O Princess," he said, "patience is full as lovely
as charity."
Lifting the veil again, she extended her hand to him, saying, "The
obligation is with us. I thank you for making light and pleasant an
afternoon which else had been tedious."
He kissed her hand, and followed the eunuch to the door. Then the
supper was announced.