"Praise be to Allah!" exclaimed Mîtri, striding in and sitting down
beside Iskender. As soon as he recovered breath, he told his story.
He had seen the secretary of the caimmacâm, and from him had learnt
that the English consul was Iskender's chief accuser. Having no
influence to oppose to so powerful an adversary except that of the
Patriarch, Mîtri had decided in his mind to make appeal to His
Beatitude, who was sure to feel kindly disposed towards a convert from
Protestantism; when a message was brought to the functionary, whose
manner changed at once. A telegram just received from the consul
himself declared the young man guiltless of the crimes imputed to him.
So pursuit was at an end.
Iskender thanked the priest, and praised his name. In the warmth of
kindly treatment after many hardships, he cast aside reserve and
caution as mere winter garments, and, the girl Nesîbeh being still
before his eyes, kissed Mîtri's hand and owned his passion for her.
Already he loved Mitra as a father. He prayed to Allah he might some
day be in truth his son. That was his dearest wish, the one hope left
to him. The priest regarded him with pure amazement for a space, then
burst out laughing.
"Thou son of a dog!" he cried. "What words are these? Is this the
season for such talk? The girl is young to marry. And thou art
overbold, a youth with nothing! If thy mind is still the same, say
three years hence, then let thy mother approach her mother, who, I
think, would scorn such wealth as thou couldst offer. Now to talk
sense. Thou canst no longer lodge at the hotel, though Selîm and Mûsa
have maintained thy innocence, and, for themselves, would still have
welcomed thee. But Mûsa, their father, has forbidden it. He says, and
justly, that thy dwelling there would bring discredit on the house just
now, when every traveller has the tale of thy misdeeds and hates thy
name. Come, and I will show thee thy lodging in the house of an old
couple on whom Allah has bestowed male offspring only. It is but a
step from here."
Again Iskender thanked the priest and kissed his hand. For the first
time in his life he felt at home in his own land. The whole of the
Orthodox community were henceforth his brethren.
On the next day Elias came to visit him, without malice for the past or
the slightest recollection of ever in his life having slandered his
good friend, now his brother in the faith. All his thoughts were of
Wady 'l Mulûk. Had Iskender been there? No? Well, how was that?
Iskender confessed that he had lost the description of its whereabouts,
and his memory had played him false. They had been very near to the
place, of that he felt sure; but the Emîr lost patience and refused to
search any further. So, for lack of a little perseverance, all was
lost, and the whole expensive journey made for nothing.
Elias listened with devout belief.
"A pity!" he explained. "But take heart, O my soul; thou and I will go
together one of these days and examine that whole region. We shall
find it yet, in sh' Allah!"
So obliging was his friendliness that he insisted on being a witness of
Iskender's baptism upon the morrow. His presence, with the scarlet
dust-cloak and the silver-mounted whip, astride of a prancing charger,
reflected glory on the little group of peasants who trudged out to the
nearest river, the priest with them. On the return there was a feast
set forth in the house of Mîtri, and great rejoicing of the whole
community. Elias was in boisterous spirits, boasting and telling
strange stories; the sons of Mûsa discussed politics and the price of
money with the rich Azîz; the priest made childish jokes and laughed at
them; while the remainder of the party, mere turbaned fellâhîn,
swarthy-faced and rough-handed, ate heartily and applauded all that was
said. The only death's-head present was Abdullah. Dismissed by Cook
as a result of the aspersions of the missionary, he now proclaimed his
intention to start business on his own account. But men shook their
heads and winked aside when he talked of it. The testimonials which he
vaunted as his stock-in-trade had been given to an elderly man of
dignity and pronounced decorum, not to this mouthing sheykh of the
dirty raiment and the visage ploughed by dissipation. On the present
occasion he had no appetite for solid food, but sat apart morosely,
tasting from time to time with manifest disrelish the light drinks
provided. It seemed he wished to go, but lacked the strength of mind
required to detach his person from so large a company. His head and
hands kept trembling, and he muttered to himself.
Merriment was at its height when there came a knock at the door. The
priest Mîtri opened, and exclaimed in glad surprise:
"Honour us, O khawâjah! Come in! Fear not! All my guests are honest
people, and the occasion of our feast concerns thee nearly. We have
this day reclaimed a Brûtestânt from the way of perdition. Would to
Allah I might baptize thee also, O light of my eyes!"
The belated visitor would have drawn back at glimpse of so large a
gathering, but Mîtri took him by the arm and brought him in. It was
the preacher Ward, the humblest of all missionaries, who was sent about
the country on the errands of the proud ones; a modest, pious man, who
spoke good Arabic and scorned not to converse upon a footing with the
natives of the land.
All rose upon his entrance. Old Abdullah straightened his frame to
something of its former majesty, and said:
"Good efenin', sir!"
"I have come too late, I find," the small white-bearded clergyman
remarked to Mîtri, who had forced him to be seated and set food before
him. "I knew not that the baptism had taken place. My desire was only
to ascertain that Iskender was earnest in this change of faith, and not
impelled by anger at a treatment he conceived to be unjust."
"By Allah, no, he is the most sincere of converts!" responded Mîtri
with his jolly laugh. "Have I anything to tempt a proselyte? Look
round this room--with one beyond it, it is all my house--and compare it
with the dwelling of the Father of Ice. Ah, no, my friend: this is a
true conversion!"
"I ask you to belief, sir, that I haf nothin' to do with it," said old
Abdullah angrily in English. "I suffer much from unkind thin's beeble
say about me. They haf ruined me in my brofession."
Mîtri silenced the old man. With a Protestant missionary for his
guest, the priest thought all words wasted that were not employed on
controversial subjects.
"Thou art a good man, O khawâjah," he observed politely but with a
certain malice. "Thou alone of all thy tribe wouldst deign to enter my
poor house without arrogance, and sit down with my friends and
neighbours in this kindly way; more especially this evening, when our
gladness is at your expense. Tell me, I beseech thee, in what sense
the others of your kind serve Allah by building palaces in the land,
displaying a luxury unknown among us, and so tempting the weak and
worthless of the Church to gather round them in the hope of gain. The
Muslimin are unassailable, being the rulers; and the Latins are too
strong and clever for them; so because their Honours must convert some
one, being paid and sent here for the purpose, they take example from
the Latins and turn on us, who are weak and not well educated. But how
do they serve Allah in all this? Explain to me, O my soul!"
The visitor stroked his thin white beard.
"Are the schools nothing? Are the hospitals nothing?" he inquired.
"By Allah, it is true, they are much!" came in chorus from the company.
"But the charity might be greater if it were dissociated from attempts
at perversion," submitted Mîtri with a show of deep humility.
The missionary reflected for a moment before he said gently:
"Your ideas and ours are widely different. When I was young I thought
with others of my kind, and preached conversion zealously and from the
heart. But now that I am old I sometimes think as you do, and ask
myself what good there is in making proselytes. But Allah is above all
of us; He alone sees the end. We strive, and others strive, for
special objects, an all fail, or else find disappointment in success;
but Allah uses our success and failure, and with them gains an object
which we never saw. Look back, O my friend, a score of years, and tell
me: Is not the intercourse between the divers sects and religions in
this country more friendly than it used to be; has not each more regard
for the other, while adhering more strongly than ever to its own creed?
Is not this to be ascribed to the missionaries, who pass from one to
the other, and cause them to compare their views, or at least
investigate them; who, by their very attacks, as you call them, have
done good, by forcing the attacked to look to their position and
resources? The Muslimin, the very Jews, have grown more tolerant; they
never stone me now as heretofore. Strange indeed if, where faith
assails faith in the name of Allah, Allah Himself should by that means
produce general toleration, and an end to proselytising! Yet that is
what is happening, it seems to me. The assaults of the Catholics and
the Protestants upon your Church have revived her. Her priests are
better in their lives; they begin to be educated; and, as a
consequence, she holds her ground. I submit to thee that we have made
few, if any, converts from you in the last ten years."
"That is true," said Mîtri, greatly interested; "and by my life thou
speakest like an angel. Nevertheless, there is but one true Church on
earth; would that I might convince thee of her authority! . . . But
thou eatest nothing! Taste this sweetstuff, I entreat thee; it is
quite a delicacy!"
The rest of the company, finding the argument beyond them, were talking
among themselves in lower tones. Only Abdullah, as a sometime
dragoman, kept near the missionary, interrupting his speech with
senseless scraps of English, all eagerness to translate for him the
words of Mîtri, till the latter stopped him with a curt "Be silent,
fool!" And Iskender also hung upon the missionary, waiting an
opportunity to inquire for the young Emîr. On a pause he thrust in his
question; when the missionary, who had been smiling at a joke of
Mîtri's, became of a sudden very grave.
"He lies at the gate of death," was his answer. "The doctor doubts if
he will pass this night; but if he sees to-morrow's light, it means
that he will live, in sh' Allah!"
"May Allah preserve the poor young man!" said Mîtri, and resumed the
controversy.
But Iskender heard no more. He slipped out, unobserved, into the
night, and stole down the sandy road through cloud-like orange-groves
to where the sandhills rolled beneath the stars.