"Oh dear! Oh dear! I could not bear to play the hypocrite any longer,
so I got up to-day and told Ishmael I was well, and therefore he must
not keep back his pilgrimage any longer. Such joy! Such rejoicing! It
would break my heart, if I had any here, but having sent all I possess
to Cairo I could do nothing but sit in the guest-room and look on at the
last of the people's preparations for the desert journey--tents and beds
being packed, and camels and horses and donkeys brought in to a
continuous din of braying and grunting and neighing.
"We are to start away to-morrow morning, and this afternoon when that
fact was announced to me I was so terrified by the idea of being dragged
over the desert like a slave that I asked Ishmael to leave me behind.
His face fell, but--would you believe it?--he agreed, saying I was not
strong enough to travel and Zenoba should stay to nurse me. At that I
speedily repented of my request and asked him to allow me to go,
whereupon his face lightened like a child's, and with joy he agreed
again, saying the Arab woman should go to take care of me, for Ayesha
was a big girl now and needed a nurse no longer. This was jumping out
of the frying-pan into the fire, and I protested that I was quite able
to look after myself; but, out of his anxiety for my health, Ishmael
would not be gainsaid, and the Arab woman said, 'I'll watch over you
like my eyes, my sister.' I am sure she will, the vixen!"