Between the fourth and fifth hour after noon of that same day Iskender
once more approached the house of the missionaries, this time with
extreme precaution, keeping as far as might be hidden in the folds of
the land, and, when obliged of necessity to cross a space of ground
exposed to view, crawling on his belly, with his tarbûsh, which, being
scarlet, was conspicuous, doffed and rolled up tightly in one hand. It
was important for the enterprise he had in view that no one of the
house should see him coming.
Having reached the garden boundary undiscovered, he stole round it,
crouching, with his ear to the wall. Soon he caught the sound of
voices, and, guided by them, reached a point quite near the speakers
whence he could hear every word they were saying. The Emîr had just
concluded what must have been a long petition, and now the uncle spoke:
"Need we have it all over again?" he inquired irritably. "You know I
would not cross you in your present state, unless I were convinced it
is for your own good. As I have before observed, she is a good many
years your senior; she has neither birth nor money, nor anything
uncommon in good looks. If, in eight months' time, you still desire
it, I shall have no longer any right to forbid your marrying. But it
shall not be now."
The tamarisks just there were a sufficient screen. Noiselessly
Iskender surmounted the low wall and parted with his hands their
feathery boughs till he could see the disputants. The uncle's face was
richly bronzed, in striking contrast with his light blue eyes and heavy
white moustache. Clad in a white suit, with a white pith helmet on his
head, he appeared to Iskender like a portrait just begun, of which only
the hands and the flesh of the face had yet been coloured by the
artist. Of figure he was broad and upright, without a symptom of
decrepitude unless it might be the stout cane he used in walking. The
Emîr looked fragile and infirm beside him, pale with the trace of
illness, and bowed by his present dejection.
"Pshaw! Bless my soul!" pursued the uncle, with a lively flourish of
his cane. "Why, every man falls in love with his nurse if she's at all
personable; it is a phase of convalescence. I could tell you of a
dozen cases, within my own personal knowledge, out in India; but I
never saw a happy marriage come of it. Now come, I only ask you to
wait eight months until you are of age--you can't call that request
unreasonable--and to stop all communications for the same period. It
will give both you and the lady time to think about it, and save you
both from rash and ill-considered action. Our good host here and the
elder ladies quite agree with me. Now sit down on this bench and rest,
while I go and get my notebook with the dates of sailing."
With that the old man went into the house, leaving the Emîr alone,
resting forlornly on the garden-seat beneath a flowering tree and
staring at the ground. Iskender parted the growth of tamarisks and
stood out before him.
The Emîr gave a start and a faint cry, with eyes dilated. Iskender
pounced on his hand and, murmuring words of love, essayed to kiss it.
It was snatched from him.
"What the devil are you doing here? Get out, I say!" The Frank spoke
low and angrily, with a glance at his hands which cursed their present
helplessness. "If I were not so confoundedly weak, I would send you
flying over that wall! . . . Oh, yes, I suppose I forgive you, and all
that. Only I don't want to speak to you, or see your face. You've got
to be a kind of nightmare to me. I daresay I misjudged you; I don't
pretend to understand you; in some ways you behaved quite well and
honestly. Only I can't endure the sight of your face, the sound of
your confounded voice. Get out, I tell you."
But Iskender came close, and, despite his efforts to repel, leaned over
him and whispered in his ear:
"Just listen, sir! I bring her to you where you like--to England?--to
America?--anywhere you tell me. Gif to me a bit of writing, for me to
show to her--you know!--to Miss Hilda, her you luf! The old man is a
fery wicked deffil to wish to sebarate you."
"So you have been listening, have you?" said the Frank, with a
mirthless laugh. "Just as if you hadn't done enough already in the way
of meddling with my affairs. Go! and may I never see your face again.
You will make haste and begone if you're wise. My uncle will be back
in half a jiffy."
But Iskender was too astonished by these words, and the listless manner
of their utterance, to trust his understanding. He went on entreating:
"Just a word in your handwriting, sir, so she can know it's all right.
I bring her to you anywhere at my exbense. God knows I do anything to
blease you! I treat her honourably, sir; I be her servant like as I'f
been yours. All that I told you about me and her was nothin'; I was
just a silly boy. I resbect her, sir; I be her slave; you trust me.
By God, I treat her like as if she was the Blessed Firgin! It will
cost you nothin', sir; I bray you do not doubt----"
But he got no further, being suddenly collared from behind, and beaten
with a cane which stung like hornets. Screaming under the punishment,
and struggling hard, he at last succeeded in breaking away just as
Costantîn came running round a corner of the house and terrified faces
appeared at its lower windows. He heard his assailant, panting,
exclaim, "That's the only argument the beggars understand. We learnt
that in India," as he (Iskender) dashed through the hedge of tamarisks
and cleared the low wall at a bound.
With mouth full of sobs, he ran across the sandhills, every salient
object, every shadow, swelling and sinking with the horror of each
breath he drew. It was not that the old afrit, the uncle of the Emîr,
had beaten him, nor that his back was sore, but that the Emîr himself
had refused his services, which so appalled him. He felt like the
spectator of some ghastly crime. Surely no man really in love would
question by what means he got his dear, so only that she was brought to
him with despatch and decency. It was a catastrophe hardly less than
that of the gold. Even in love--the fierce, unreasoning passion of a
youth for a maid--it seemed a Frank must differ from a son of the
Arabs. Once more Iskender had erred in attributing to the Emîr his own
sensations, and been punished for it as for an offence unthinkable.
Once more he gazed into a soundless gulf, impossible to bridge; and was
appalled.
Seeing a convenient hollow close before him, he plunged into it, and
had flung himself down to think and fetch his breath, before he knew
that it was already occupied. A sudden burst of music with the strains
of the English National Hymn was the first announcement he received of
the proximity of Khalîl, the concertina-player, and of his own uncle
Abdullah.
"Welcome, O Iskender," said Khalîl, when the tune had finished with
becoming gravity. "I come out here to play my music undisturbed. And
Abdullah follows me through love of the strange sounds, which soothe
his mind's disease."
"May Allah preserve thee in happiness, O son of my brother!" said
Abdullah gloomily. "But thy folly has brought ruin to my house. Our
Lord destroy those children of iniquity who slandered me in the ears of
Kûk."
"Take heart, O my soul! Be not so downcast!" pleaded the musician, who
was all urbanity, doing the honours of his one accomplishment there in
that lonely hollow of the sands for all the world as though it had been
a fine reception-room, and they his guests. "Stay, and I will play to
you both the air of 'Yenki-dûdal'--a noble air, none like it, and of
wide renown. So shall Abdullah cease from brooding on misfortune."
This Frankish music hurrying to an end, of a rhythm monotonous as the
hoof-beats of a galloping horse, seemed very ugly to Iskender. How
different from the delicious waywardness of Eastern airs, whose charm
is all by the bye, in precious dawdlings and digressions! It revealed
to him the mind of his Emîr. Gradually, as he listened to it, grief
fell from him; and in its stead rose hatred for a race that measured
all things, even the sweet sounds of music, even love. He remembered
only that his back was sore.