Iskender followed the sandy road through the gardens. It was dark, and
the forms of one or two men who passed him made him tremble, they
sprang so suddenly out of the gloom, noiseless, their footfalls
deadened by the soft sand. The events of the day had left on him a
strong impression of the supernatural, and now he felt that witchcraft
was abroad, expected each minute that some evil claw would pounce on
him out of the gloom. The very stars of heaven looked uncanny. Cold
sweat came out upon his forehead; his legs dragged weakly though he
longed to run. Two palm-trees standing out against the sky told him he
was approaching the abode of Mîtri; the church, the hovels, even the
ilex-tree, were swallowed up in the dark cloud of the gardens which
rolled mysterious on every side. Presently he saw a light among the
dwellings. It occurred to him to call at the priest's house, and
render thanks for his intervention in the matter of Elias. He longed
to speak to some one, any one, for rescue from the grinning terror of
the night.
He knocked at the door with loud blessings. It was opened, with a
sudden gush of light. The priest peered out into the gloom.
"Is it thou, O my son?" he cried, recognising at length the voice that
praised his kindness. "No, Allah be my witness, I will accept nothing
from thee--neither thanks nor anything else, save thy conversion. Hast
come to seek instruction in accordance with thy promise? Alas! I
cannot bid thee enter, for my wife and children are abed; the hour is
late. What ails thee that thou tremblest? Art afraid of the powers of
darkness, poor Brûtestânt without a saint to guard thee? Wait, I will
take my staff and bear thee company.
"By Allah, thou hast every cause to fear," he continued, stepping forth
beside Iskender. "Thy errors give the devils power to harm thee. The
Franks are not afraid; for in each one of them there sits a devil far
more powerful than those outside. But thou, poor innocent dupe, are
left defenceless. Surely the falsehood of their teaching must be
evident to a youth of thy intelligence?"
"Nay, O my father, though my soul abhors them, I still discern much
good in their beliefs." Iskender, freed from fear, could argue
lightly. That morning, when he gave his word to Mîtri, he had felt
alone and helpless. Now, in repossession of his Emîr, with boundless
wealth in prospect, the question of his change of faith seemed
unimportant. That the Orthodox creed was the way of salvation, he had
no doubt; his mother had always said so; but there seemed plenty of
time in which to save his soul. He added: "How can their faith be
false, seeing it is founded on the Holy Scriptures?"
"They quote the Scriptures, it is true," retorted Mîtri, "but without
rule or guidance, each in the pride of his own understanding--the
devils do the same!--so that no two Brûtestânts believe alike. They
reject all those sacred traditions which lead back to Christ. Their
only union is in hatred of the Church. They exist for themselves
alone, to the hurt of others, just like stinging insects. And Allah
alone knows why they were ever created, unless it be as a kind of
hornet to molest the faithful. Consider, O my dear, how transient this
life is; its prosperity departs with the breath. Think on the anguish
of those who, attracted by the wealth and luxury of these missionaries,
forsake the truth of God, when they stand before His Throne of Judgment
at the Last Day!"
Iskender listened, but was unimpressed. His mind had wandered back to
the events of the day; and at that moment Wady 'l Mulûk was more
apparent to his mind than the Last Judgment. He murmured:
"I will ponder what thou sayest."
"Again bethink thee, thou who hast the gift of making likenesses and
colouring them so that they resemble living things, what fame awaits
thee as a maker of sacred pictures for our churches and our dwellings!"
"True, I must think of that," replied Iskender. He meant, in case he
failed by any chance to find the valley full of gold, whose wealth
would raise him to the social rank of his Emîr.
"Well, go in peace, my son; may Allah guide thee!"
With the blessing Mîtti [Transcriber's note: Mîtri?] kissed Iskender on
the brow, and pressed his hand. They were then quite near the little
house upon the sandhill; could see light streaming from its open door
and, silhouetted on the light, Iskender's mother looking out for him.
"Mercy on us!" she exclaimed, when her son came bounding through a gap
of the cactus hedge. "Praise be to Allah thou art still alive and
well! I have kept a bowl of lentils hot for thee, which is more than
thy deserts, O shameless one! O my despair, ever to have borne such a
son! When--when wilt thou learn discretion? Why didst thou express a
hope that thy Emîr would foul the beard of the Father of Ice, and that
in the hearing of the son of Costantîn? Here have the ladies been
again to-day, railing against thee as the worst of malefactors. By
Allah, I can keep thee here no longer. Yet whither canst thou go,
unhappy boy, for now I learn that thou hast angered thy Emîr? Thy
uncle, the respectable Abdullah, has been here in great trouble for
thee. He has this day returned from Beyrût, that great, splendid city,
and I thought that he had come to tell me of its progress and high
fashion. But no, it was for thee he came. In the town, on landing he
had heard the tidings of thy downfall. Why hast thou hid the truth
from me these many days? I could have fallen lifeless when I heard him
say that thou art nothing, that Elias is the friend of thy Emîr.
Whence came that money thou didst show me? Was it stolen? Tell me, O
unfortunate! I am thy loving mother, and shall not condemn thee."
Iskender laughed at her concern.
"It is true," he said, "that my Emîr did for a time prefer Elias. But
now, praise to Allah, all is well again!" And he proceeded to relate
what had happened that morning in the orange-garden.
"May Allah reward our father Mîtri!" his mother exclaimed. "But I
would not have thee go too far in friendship with him, on account of
the missionaries, who may yet forgive thee. To-day when I condemned
thy conduct fiercely, their hearts, I could see, were touched with pity
for thee. Now if I drive thee forth, and vow never more to look on
thee, there is a chance they will forgive thee quite. It is certain
that they do not love Asad as they loved thee. By Allah, I should like
to see my son a mighty clergyman. Then I would wear fine Frankish hats
in their despite; and thou couldst wed the Sitt Hilda, though she is
old for thee. To-morrow, therefore, seek some new abode. . . . Allah
cut short thy life! Thy wits are wandering. Is the matter of my
speech so light, O misbegotten?"
Iskender, who was half-way through the mess of lentils, protested with
his mouth full that he had heard and would obey. But his tone was so
indifferent as to increase his parent's wrath. To one deep in thought
of the valley of gold, her words seemed trash. She stormed unceasingly
till they had both lain down to rest and the night-light was burning
fitfully on the ground between them. Then at last came peace; she
snored aloud; while Iskender thought of the valley full of gold, whose
true existence had been miraculously revealed to him, and then of the
career as a church painter offered to him by the priest Mîtri.
Anything was better than to be the fatted slave of the missionaries,
who, he felt sure, hated him. His desire was to be loved.
In the morning early he returned to the house of Mîtri. As he reached
it a noise of chanting in the little church informed him that the
priest was at his duties; so he squatted down in the shade of the
ever-green oak, and waited till the service should be ended. Presently
a group of brown-legged boys came tumbling out, smiting one another and
shouting the minute they had passed the threshold. A few girls
followed, all discreetly veiled, in one of whom he recognised Nesîbeh;
and then some older people, turbaned men and white-veiled women, among
them one blind sheykh with hands outstretched; and finally, after an
interval, the priest himself. Iskender sprang to him, and kissed his
hand.
"I seek a boon of thee, O lord of kindness!"
"In the name of Allah!" Mîtri seized the suppliant's hands and pressed
them to his heart. "Say on; I listen."
Iskender told him how the hatred of the missionaries had reached such a
pitch that his mother was obliged to cast him out. He had come to the
priest, his best friend, for advice in this dilemma, thinking that he
might recommend him to a lodging.
"Now may Allah house thee!" said Mîtri with a thoughtful frown. "Allah
knows thy mother does great wrong thus to cast thee abroad, a young
unmarried man; unless she wishes to debauch thee utterly. For who but
the worst of characters would take thee in, to share the intimacy of
their wives and daughters, except it might be as a traveller, and for a
single night? Wallah, I am at a loss how to advise thee. There is not
at present among us an old childless couple, nor yet a bachelor, whose
dwelling thou couldst share. By the Holy Gospel, I see no resort for
thee except a khan. . . . I have it!"--his perplexity was lightened
suddenly, and he raised his eyes, till then downcast. "Thou shalt
lodge at the hotel of Mûsa el Barûdi, where thy patron dwells. Mûsa is
of my congregation, and he loves me well; while, as for Selîm and Daûd,
his two sons, I taught them their duties and chastised their youthful
conduct. Wait here, and I will write a word to them, how thou art
tired of the vain beliefs of the Brûtestânts, and wouldst tread the
path of Salvation."
"Write all that pleases thee, our father!"
Iskender waited to receive the missive; and then, with blessings on the
priest and all belonging to him, sped with it to the hotel. To be near
his sweet Emîr both night and day fulfilled his dearest wish.
The sons of Mûsa had not yet risen when he entered the hall; and the
black doorkeeper, accustomed to see him come in every day without leave
or question, betrayed astonishment when asked to bear a letter to them.
"To which of the twain?" he asked, with a dubious grin.
"By Allah, that I care not; for see, by the superscription, the message
is to both alike."
"I will show it to the Khawâjah Selîm," the negro muttered, and went
off, holding the paper wrapped in his white robe.
He returned almost immediately, on his heels Selîm the son of Mûsa, who
cried gladly:
"Thou art welcome and thrice welcome, O my dear! The praise to Allah,
and good luck to thee! Our father Mîtri must be mad with joy; for thou
art the first that ever came from them to him, while they have stolen
many from his flock, though not of late. The Holy Orthodox Church
invites no proselyte, so the more credit to the man who comes to her.
She resembles some old-fashioned, quiet merchant, too dignified to
compete with Frankish cheapjacks. Our house is thy house; dwell here
as long as is convenient to thee, and may Allah preserve thee always."
Iskender murmured his thanks, standing reverently, with hands folded
away and eyes downcast. Then, when Selîm had gone back to his
dressing, he crossed his legs upon the pavement of the hall and mused
on his good fortune, praising Allah.
Elias came into the hall and greeted him.
"I have news for thee," he whispered; and Iskender, remembering the
Valley of the Kings, gave eager ear; but just then Selîm, the son of
Mûsa, called from an inner room:
"Iskender is a convert, O Elias. He returns to the bosom of the
Church. The praise to Allah!"
"Is it true?" cried Elias, starting back and staring at the youth.
Perceiving no denial, he embraced him fondly, crying: "Our Lord bless
thee! Allah knows I always loved the soul of thee, though the
Brûtestânt stank in my nose; now from this day forth I am thy brother.
By the Most High, thou shalt lodge nowhere but in my house."
"May Allah reward thy hospitality, O Elias," cried again the son of
Mûsa. "The honour thou wouldst have is mine already."
"A pity!" sighed Elias, seeming really disappointed.
But the next minute, hearing steps upon the stairs, he brightened up,
and said in Iskender's ear:
"The Emîr descends! Ah, I assure thee by the Holy Gospel, I have news
for both of you."
The Frank stayed only long enough for salutations, then passed again
from sight, going to breakfast. But though they were long alone,
without a listener, Elias refused to impart the matter of his news,
bidding Iskender wait till the Emîr gave audience.
"Ah, I assure thee, news of price!" he repeated, hugging himself, with
big round eyes of mystery.