On the day following that council on the sea-beach, something happened
which pushed the Valley of the Kings into the background for a time.
This was the arrival from the land of the English of a fine new
paint-box, which the Emîr presented to his henchman with most gracious
words. With this beside him and his sketch-book on his knees Iskender
heard the talk around him with but half an ear, and, when referred to
answered without thinking, thus assenting to propositions and accepting
responsibilities the onus of which dismayed him when he came to realise
it. For instance Elias earnestly desired to know if Iskender could
have included the services of a first-rate cook in his estimate for the
expedition. The best of cooks, he vowed, was necessary for the honour
and contentment of their dearest lord. How was it to be done?
Iskender with eyes intent upon a spot of colour newly laid, with brush
in air, replied:
"Have no fear, O beloved. I shall find a man; and, if not, I myself
will do the cooking."
"But canst thou?"
"By Allah, I am a known professor of the art." And again when Elias
spoke of other services certain to be required upon the journey,
Iskender undertook, in default of trained servants, himself to make the
bed and wait upon the Frank at table.
The Emîr was greatly pleased by this alacrity of the absorbed artist;
seeing which, Elias cried:
"No, no, by God, you can't do all the work, I help you, 'Skender. Let
me wait at table."
Iskender saw Elias waiting on their lord alone, breathing his pleasure
in the great man's ear! Yet he assented gratefully. Elias was not to
go with them at all, he had firmly resolved; but there was no need to
tell him so just now, in this time of preparation when his experience
was sure to be useful. In Iskender's mind the Valley of the Kings was
little more than a romantic pretext for a ride alone with his Emîr.
But Elias thought of nothing but the gold. His eyes seemed to have
grown larger in these days, and were fixed wide open to contain the
vision. He treated Iskender with a kind of worship as the repository
of that precious secret, showed great care for his health, and was in
all things his loyal helper. But the young man did not trust him. He
kept the details of the expedition to himself as organiser; and, though
Elias pestered him with questions concerning the whereabouts of that
desirable valley, he would reveal nothing. By dint of thus withholding
information, he himself acquired the firm conviction that there was
really information to withhold.
It was not till more than a week after the coming of the famous
paint-box that Iskender found time to go again to the house of Mîtri.
Repairing thither in the glow of a fine evening, following a rainy day,
he was surprised, as he drew near the place, to see his mother talking
with Mîtri in the doorway. She was wrapped from head to foot in a
great shawl, and seemed in some trepidation, casting frequent glances
up and down the road. In so doing she caught sight of Iskender, and
raised hands to heaven. She ran to meet him.
"What is this?" she cried. "Day after day have I been here to seek
thee, because the whole world says that thou hast joined the Orthodox,
and my heart yearned towards thee; but I dared not go openly to the
hotel where thou art known to lodge, having sworn to the missionaries
that I would never see thee more. Here, too, I am in terror of my
life, for if it were known that I held intercourse with Mîtri, they
would cast me off. Well, thou hast no more hope from them, thanks to
thy rashness. Why couldst thou not shun the priest here, as I told
thee to? Now, with all the Orthodox boasting of thy conversion, thou
art more than ever accursed in their sight. Even at me they look
askance, I fancy, as if I had a finger in the mess. Come indoors where
we can talk privately. The worthy priest will let me enter with thee.
What made thee go and change thy faith just now?"
"I have not yet changed it, O my mother. I do but hear the reasoning
of our father Mîtri."
"Well, that is something. I will tell them that." She held her tongue
suddenly, finding herself within the hearing of Mîtri, who, however,
took no notice of her, but welcomed Iskender fatherly and bade him
enter. She entered with them unrebuked, and sat by while they argued,
feasting her eyes upon her son's good looks. The girl Nesîbeh came
occasionally to the door of the inner room, and exchanged mischievous
glances with Iskender, who was on the watch for her. His mother's eyes
were quick to notice this, and, leaning to his ear, she whispered:
"Cunning devil! Thy plan is not amiss, for she is comely, and her
father stands well with the highest in the land. Thou wilt mix with
the Barûdis and the rich Azîz."
Iskender shook her hand from off his arm, and brushed her words away as
stinging insects, in terror lest the priest should overhear. The
priest rebuked her for the interruption. But she continued unabashed,
and sat on smiling to herself, and nodding at Iskender when she caught
his eye.
After that Iskender went to the priest's house every evening, and his
mother often stole so far to meet him, hurrying, chin on shoulder, in
evident terror of pursuit by the missionaries. She endured all Mîtri's
reprobations with a shrug, content so long as he allowed her to embrace
her boy.
"Poor people must eat bread. Our Blessed Lord knows that and will make
allowance for me," was her reply to the accusation of hypocrisy. But
she now seconded Mîtri's designs upon Iskender, gratified by the notion
of an alliance with the priest's family. "It is different with him,"
she admitted, "since they have cast him out. Let Iskender follow the
guidance of the Spirit. Doubtless the congregation will take care of
his future, for he has forfeited a great career for conscience' sake."
Iskender, however, still held back, from no conscientious reluctance,
but merely to prolong a hesitation which he found delicious as giving
him value in the eyes of the girl Nesîbeh. Her delight when any of his
objections went down before her father's reasoning and the triumphant
private glance she shot at him made a joy not lightly to be forgone.
When all his veritable doubts had been demolished, he invented others
to prolong this happiness. He cherished definite hopes, dream-like as
was the nature of his mental process, of obtaining her for his own,
when he returned full of treasure from Wady 'l Mulûk. The big priest,
it was clear, had conceived a liking for him, and had come to count on
his visits of an evening, loving an argument; her mother always blessed
him when he came and went, and baked choice sweetmeats for his
delectation.
It was not long before Iskender received evidence that the question of
his change of faith possessed a lively interest for others besides the
priest Mîtri and his lovely daughter. One day, returning from a walk
with the Emîr, he heard that the missionary had been inquiring for him
in his absence; and the following evening, on the road to Mîtri's
house, he was overtaken by the Father of Ice in person, who got down
off his horse and addressed him very kindly.
Why did Iskender never come to church nowadays? why had he not been to
visit the ladies? why had he refused their offer of employment in the
house, which would probably have led to better things, perhaps to his
appointment as assistant master in one of the Mission schools? Even
now it was not too late to reconsider; they, on their side, were quite
willing to forget bygones. It had grieved them much to hear that
Iskender was drifting into bad company, and entering on a vicious
course of life; still more to learn that he showed an inclination to
forget the enlightened religious teaching which he had received in
childhood.
His words moved Iskender more than he desired to show, arousing in his
mind a thousand happy memories, reproachful now. He replied in Arabic
with the sullenness that masks emotion:
"I am a son of the Arabs, and I return to my own kind. Allah knows I
am nothing to be considered."
"What do you mean?" asked the missionary in a colder tone.
"Your Honour and the ladies could not make of me an Englishman. It is
for that you cast me off."
"We tried to make of you a Christian man." The missionary's face grew
stern, and his ice-green eyes gave forth a sword-flash. "Well, go your
way; God grant it lead not to perdition!" He nodded his head in the
direction of the two palm-trees which marked in the dusk the
whereabouts of Mîtri's house.
Iskender, glancing in the same direction, discerned the tall black
figure of the father of Nesîbeh in the road, looking out for him. The
idea of evil in connection with the jolly priest suddenly struck him as
perverse and ludicrous. He laughed in the face of the missionary.
"My friends are no worse than your friends. And which of us will be
lost, which saved, will not be known until the last judgment. May Our
Lord forgive your Honour for such bad thoughts."
In a white rage, the Father of Ice remounted his horse and rode away,
disregarding the ironical salute of Mîtri, who stood out before his
door, awaiting the arrival of his catechumen.
"What didst thou say to the hog to make him snort like that?" was the
priest's first question of Iskender; and, when the youth informed him,
"By Allah, it was a true word," he chuckled heartily. "They think all
men should be on one pattern--the pattern of their wondrous selves,
whom they esteem perfection. They suppose that what is good for their
race must be good for all the others, thus ignoring the providence of
Allah, Who made the peoples of the earth to differ in appearance,
speech, and manners. They know nothing of our beliefs and ways of
thought, so call them wicked, since they are not theirs. They condemn
men freely, sitting in the seat of judgment, unaware that they
themselves will be judged at the last day. By Allah, there is only one
of all that breed whom one can talk to as a human being--I mean the
little preacher Ward, who runs their errands. He has not been here for
three months or more. From much travelling among the villages, he
knows the customs of our people and respects them. Moreover, he is
modest, while the rest are arrogant. . . . But, merciful Allah, what
is this I see? What ails thee, madwoman?"
The mother of Iskender, stealing forth from the priest's house, had
cast herself upon her son, with fearful moans:
"O Holy Virgin! O my terror! Please God, he did not see me where I
stood in the doorway! Some one has informed him where I go--it must be
Costantîn, the spy and liar--and now he rides at dusk to try and catch
me. I shall not come here again; it is too dangerous. Come thou to
the house sometimes quite late at night. Farewell, O beloved, and may
Allah keep thee!"
"Allah is greatest!" ejaculated Mîtri, with a shrug and a gruff laugh,
as he watched her flight along the twilight road. "Now let us enter
and dispute together."
But the shock of his encounter with the missionary had left Iskender
with no wits for argument. He took leave earlier than usual; and, as
he walked back to the hotel in the dark, he realised that the last
vestige of his Protestantism had that evening been demolished. His
baptism would follow as a matter of course, in the mind of Mîtri; and
he was by no means prepared to receive it, since the priest, for the
triumph of his congregation, was certain to demand a public ceremony,
and Iskender feared the scorn of his Emîr, whom he imagined to be
something of a sceptic.
Moreover, it would entail a full confession of his inmost thoughts,
which, with Wady 'l Mulûk in mind, he could not face; and at least it
ought to be postponed till after the great Fast, which the Orthodox
observe with cruel rigour.
To stave off the ordeal he saw himself forced to invent a new set of
doubts and objections. On his next visit to the house of Mîtri, he
owned himself convinced of the vanity of the Protestant faith, but
hinted at an inclination towards the Catholic. The big priest stared
at him with mouth agape.
"Curse thy father!" he exclaimed. "Wouldst thou turn from bad to
worse, and rush straight to Jehennum. Thou hast studied history, so
knowest that the Latins are our ancient enemies. They slew us with the
Muslims when their armies took by storm the Holy Places, and enslaved
the remnant of us in a cruel slavery. They have statues, rank idols,
in their churches; and is it not the worst idolatry to concentrate the
power which belongs of right to the whole Body of Christ, and adore it
in the person of one living man? Their lips have corrupted the creed:
they have no baptism, so can have no orders. Their Pope of Rome
himself is nothing but an unbaptized layman. Speak of that again, and
I will drive thee from my house with beatings!"
Iskender, greatly alarmed, made haste to explain that he had spoken in
jest. He had caught an angry look from the girl Nesîbeh.
"Jest not upon what concerns thy soul's salvation," said the priest,
letting his wrath evaporate. "Thou knowest not what harm those Latins
do us, tempting souls astray. They allow proselytes to retain our
beliefs, our language, and our form of service, so only that they
acknowledge the supremacy of the hound of Rome, which means perdition,
truly, in the next world, but foreign protection in this. It is little
wonder that they have seduced many. . . . What hinders thee from
receiving at my hands the inestimable boon of baptism?"
Iskender murmured that he still had doubts. The angry glances of the
girl Nesîbeh made him shame-faced.
"Show me thy doubts that I may straight resolve them."
Iskender was muttering that he must think them out, that they were not
yet quite clear in his mind, when Nesîbeh cried from the inner room:
"Hear him not, O my father! The low dog is mocking thee. Force him to
be baptized, or drive him forth!"
"Silence, shameless one!" the priest cried sternly; nevertheless he
took her suggestion and, turning to Iskender, whose brow was throbbing
painfully, inquired: "Hast thou one good reason to desire delay?"
"Yes, O our father!" Iskender blurted out the truth at last. "I know
not how my patron would regard it. On him I depend entirely for the
present. I have heard him scoff at all who change the faith that they
were born in. Wait a little, I beseech thee, until he is gone!"
"Is that in truth all?" replied Mîtri, fully satisfied. "The right is
with thee. We must wait awhile. But Allah grant thou die not in the
interval."