Half-blind with tears and rendered witless by despair, Iskender had
walked half the distance to his mother's house before he realised that
he had no desire to go there. A pool of shade by the roadside
inviting, he sat down in it, and gave the rein to grief. It was with a
mild surprise that, when his sense returned, he found himself under the
ilex-tree before the little church which Mîtri served. Afraid of
interruption he looked round uneasily. But no one was in sight, and he
was loth to move. He opened his sketch-book for a suggestion of
employment in case any one should espy him, and returned to sorrow.
From the group of hovels close at hand came women's voices and the
cluck of hens; over his head, among the branches of the oak-tree, doves
were cooing. The plumes of the two palm-trees hung dead still amid the
sunshine! the shade in which he sat was quite unruffled. A train of
camels sauntered by along the sandy road, with clanging bells, their
driver chanting softly to himself. Iskender's heart went out in
yearning to the peaceful scene. He envied the dwellers in those low
mud-hovels, who led their simple lives with praise to Allah; envied the
poor camel-driver singing in the sunshine as he jogged along. Alas for
him, he had no part with these, but was a Protestant, a stranger in his
native land, a monstrous creation of those English who had cast him
off, a byword, a bad joke. The iridescent plumage of some pigeons,
which, emboldened by his stillness, came strutting and pecking on the
ground before him, drew his gaze; and, half-unconsciously, he began to
trace their likeness on the page before him. While thus engaged he
heard a stealthy tread behind him, and felt a breath on his neck as
some one leaned above him to inspect his work. In a flash he
remembered the beautiful child, the daughter of Mîtri, and his heart
beat fiercely. The violent change of emotion paralysed him for some
seconds; then he turned round suddenly and made a grab. The girl
suppressed a scream, and tried to run, but he had caught her arm. With
joyful eagerness, though the tears of despair were still wet on his
face, he pleaded:
"Why wouldst fly from me, my soul? Why art thou here if not to talk
with me?"
"The picture," she murmured angrily, pulling against him hard, with
face averted.
"The picture is it? Only stay till it is finished, and I will give it
thee with pleasure."
"No, no, I tell thee; let me go or I will tear thy eyes out! Art thou
not a Brûtestânt, a dog? Thy touch is defilement. How canst thou
continue in that lying faith? Art thou not scared each night at the
thought of the devils and the eternal fires?"
She gave up resistance, and stood surveying him with great round eyes
of horror, fascinated by the sight of a creature doomed to everlasting
torment. The feel of her slight brown wrist was like a snake for
coolness. Iskender ventured to caress it with his fingers. But at the
touch she snatched it from him angrily, and sprang to a safe distance.
"Thou hast been weeping; why?" she asked with a cool directness, which
was like a sword-thrust in Iskender's heart. His woe broke out afresh.
"O Lord!" he blubbered. "I have none to love me. My Emîr, whom I love
truly, casts me off. The Brûtestânts, who brought me up, despise me.
The Christians call me dog!"
"O man, stop crying, for it frightens me." Nesîbeh came again and
leaned over him. "Be sure thy sorrow is from the hand of Allah to
punish thy errors and disgust thee with them. My father says that
calamities are often sent as warnings to the reprobate. Be thou
warned, O my dear, and return to the Church. Then our Lord will be
pleased with thee, and make men love thee."
"And thou--wilt thou too love me, or still call me dog?" Iskender
seized her hand again, though she resisted furiously. But the words
were cut in his mouth by a heavy hand which smote him sideways,
deafening one ear; and when he recovered from sensations of a general
earthquake, it was to find himself alone with Mîtri.
The priest stood smiling down on him with folded arms.
"What means this, O son of a dog?" he said through clenched teeth.
"Dost thou take us, by chance, for Brûtestânts, for shameless heathens?
Praise be to Allah, we are quite unused to Frankish manners. Respect
our daughters as thou wouldst the daughters of the Muslim, or harm will
come to thee."
At those words all his former misery returned upon Iskender. He buried
his face in his sleeve.
The anger of the priest turned to astonishment. After staring for a
minute, he sat down beside the youth and, putting his arm round his
neck, inquired:
"What ails thee, O my dear? It cannot be that thou dost weep so
bitterly because I struck thee, nor yet for penitence in the matter of
my daughter. Such things afflict not thus the mind of youth. Come,
tell me what it is! Open thy heart. Who knows but, in Allah's mercy,
I may be of help to thee?"
Iskender lifted his eyes for one swift glance at his would-be consoler,
then hid them once more in his hands. The expression of the priest's
strong face commanded confidence, and he felt the need of a friend.
After a second's hesitation, he confessed all: how he had deceived the
Emîr at first as to his worldly station, how that deception had given
the missionaries power to set his lord against him, and then how Elias,
by unheard of perfidy, with diabolical arts, had taken possession of
the Emîr, and prevented Iskender's obtaining the private audience which
would have put things right.
The priest heard him to the end, then eyed him curiously.
"Allah is merciful!" he observed. "See what it is to be an infidel.
Had this happened to me I should simply have turned away with a shrug
and 'Praise to Allah.' But this youth has been taught to put his trust
in worldly things, and when these fail, as fail they always do, he
comes near to kill himself."
"I am no longer a Brûtestânt!" rejoined Iskender vehemently. "Allah
knows I hate the race of them! But I have not yet told thee all my
cause of grief--all the perfidy of the fiend Elias. It was bad enough
when I supposed him poor like me. Now it seems he is the owner of an
orange-garden. I knew it not until this morning. He has taken my Emîr
away to feast there in the shade. How can I ever compete with a rich
landowner?"
"I ask pardon of Allah! An orange-garden? Elias own an orange-garden?
Never, in this low world! Now whither has he led the good khawâjah?"
Mîtri laid a finger between his eyebrows, and thought deeply. Anon his
face brightened. "If I give thee thy revenge upon Elias," he demanded,
"wilt thou swear by the Incarnation to forsake the errors of the
Brûtestânts, and come to me henceforth for instruction in the way of
right?"
"I have done already with the Brûtestânts," replied Iskender, all alert
in an instant at the suggestion of a bargain; "but as to joining the
Orthodox, my mind is not yet clear."
"By the help of Allah, I will clear it for thee. Come and reason with
me; that is all I ask. Swear to do this or I will not help thee."
Iskender swore with secret alacrity, having the girl Nesîbeh in his
mind's eye.
"That is well. Now I think I know the trick that rogue is playing. I
have seen him in the company of one Muhammad, who tends the
orange-garden belonging to a member of our Church, the rich Azîz; and
Azîz is gone these two days upon business to El Cuds. But his brother
remains with us, praise to Allah, and it is but a step from here to go
and warn him. I too have a debt against Elias, who invited me to bless
his house, yet never paid me. So dry thy tears, my son, and come with
me."
The priest went in among the hovels, while Iskender gathered up his
sketching things, with hope revived. It being noon, the brother of
Azîz was in his house. It was plain he did not share his brother's
wealth, for his abode was of the humblest, and in dress and bearing he
was a poor fellâh. His dark face brightened wonderfully when he heard
what the priest required of him. He seized his staff and called out
all the neighbours, who burst out laughing when they learned the nature
of his business. When Iskender joined them, however, there were looks
askance; one said to another, "Is not this the Brûtestânt, the son of
Yâcûb? What hand has he in this affair? It were a sin for us to vex a
true believer for the pleasure of a child of filthy dogs," till the
priest cried, "Welcome him, for he accepts the truth," when all gave
praise to Allah. One tall fellâh forthwith embraced Iskender, and
began at once to tell him of the joys of Heaven.
The brother of Azîz then led the way down a narrow path among
fruit-trees to his brother's garden, which was not far off. The crowd
of neighbours followed. Arrived at the gate, he ordered the women and
children to remain there, while himself and Mîtri, with six turbaned
men all armed with big tough staves, crossed themselves devoutly,
murmured "Bismillah," put the right foot first, and stole in very
quietly.
Iskender followed at a distance, contrary to the command of Mîtri, who
had bidden him wait without with the women and children, till he saw
them stop and whisper together, when he struck off independently.
Pressing his way through the dark foliage, hung with yellowing globes
and sweet with the scent of orange-flowers, he reached a secret place
whence he could watch what happened.