The love Iskender bore to his Emîr transfigured every detail of familiar life. The walk to the hotel each morning was a joy through expectation, the return each evening a delight through memory. The vestibule in which he waited his lord's pleasure, with its marble pavement and its painted walls, a few cane chairs and tables, and a great clock ticking steadily, became the entrance-hall of paradise. Of nights the thought of sitting there next morning caused his pulse to quicken. The sons of Mûsa and the negro doorkeeper shared in the radiance of his loved one's neighbourhood. It was easier for his mind to pasture on accessories than to conjure up the Emîr's own presence, which left the memory blind as with excess of light. At times he would recall with a thrill the lofty brow with short fair hair reposing on its summit as lightly as tamarisks upon the crest of a dune, the laughing sea-blue eyes with golden lashes, or it might be the smooth curves of mouth and chin. But the face as a whole escaped him, though he never tired of studying it, and was always trying to produce its likeness; now with pencil upon paper, now with finger in the sand. No artist in the world could hope to show the beauty of that face as he beheld it, the glow its smile diffused through all his being. Even his mother's shrieks to him to get money from the Emîr enhanced his rapture, making his own pure love shine forth more brightly.
A week's fine weather followed on the rain. The Emîr rode out on horseback every day, with Iskender at his right hand, and Elias, who was a showy rider, circling round them. Iskender had told Elias plainly:
"The Emîr is mine. I found him; and shall keep him all my own."
"It is known he is thine," the elder had made answer with all deference. "Allah forbid that I should seem to rival thee! But his Honour has been merciful to me, and my soul is bound to him and thee in gratitude. Moreover, nowadays I have much spare time, which I can scarcely hope to spend more profitably than in the society and conversation of so exalted and refined a nobleman. He is thine and shall remain so. Only drive me not away!"
Iskender acceded to this petition the more readily that his Emîr, he could see, regarded the most exquisite of dragomans simply as a standing joke. They laughed together at his superstition and his boastfulness. But their butt was really serviceable in small ways, knowing where to hire good horses at the lowest price, and pointing out in the course of their rides objects of interest of the very existence of which Iskender had been ignorant.
Never had the son of Yâcûb known such happiness as he tasted in those rides across the plain which basked in sunshine, with violet mountains before them and a gleam of the sea behind. Here they traversed a mud-village plumed with palms, its narrow ways alive with dogs, and fowls, and children, where Iskender shouted, "Way for the Emîr!" till men and women bowed their heads and praised him; there an olive-grove profuse of dappled shade, where they were content to let their horses walk at ease. In their saddle-bags was much good food from the hotel, which they devoured at noon in some secluded spot; when Elias would discourse to them of strange vicissitudes, of beggars suddenly uplifted to the height of honour, and the Emîr, reclining lazily, would smile and wink privately at Iskender, who, at every such mark of preferment, longed to kiss his feet. No marvel yet related by Elias could compare with his own good fortune in Iskender's eyes.
One evening, on their return to the hotel, when two stable-boys were leading off the tired horses, and Iskender, with Elias, stood waiting to take leave of his kind lord, the negro brought a little card to the Emîr, who eyed it strangely.
"It is that missionary-man you hate so," he informed Iskender. "What in the name of Moses made him call on me?"
"Ha, ha! 'Name of Moses!'" laughed Elias, who was daily adding to his store of English idioms. "By gum, that's good!"
Iskender inwardly thanked Allah Most High for his mercy in directing the Father of Ice to call while the Emîr was out. He thought no more of it. They rode again the next day and the next; his happiness went on, unshadowed, till a certain morning when the Frank announced, with a yawn, that he supposed he must return the visit of the missionary. This he gave as a reason for not riding on that day. He would write off arrears of letters in the morning, and in the afternoon would walk out to the Mission.
Iskender's jaw fell. It had never occurred to him as even remotely possible that his Emîr would stoop to enter the abode of people he had always mentioned with such fine contempt. The picture of his loved one seated in the well-known drawing-room, an object of attention to the ladies, hobnobbing with the Father of Ice—his Emîr, whom he had come to regard as the very counterblast of that house and all it stood for—gave him a sense of being upside down. The Frank laughed at his dismay, inquiring:
"Why so surprised? I must return the poor man's call in mere politeness."
"They hate me very much there," said Iskender miserably. "I fear they tell you things not true about me."
"I know the truth from you, don't I? Let them say what they like!"
Iskender went forth from his presence, pondering this reassurance, which contained no comfort for him, since he had given his lord to understand that he had received his education at the Mission as an independent paying pupil, and had quite concealed the fact that his mother was a washerwoman. The Emîr, if he thought at all of the matter, supposed him a youth of substance. How could he think otherwise, when he heard Iskender offer to defray the cost of horses, and saw him daily bring some present in his hand? Now he would learn the truth.
Elias was standing in the doorway talking to Daûd son of Mûsa when his friend came out. He noticed his glum looks, and asked the cause.
"My Emîr is going to visit that accursed missionary, who hates me and will work my ruin if he can."
"Why then remain a Brûtestânt among such enemies? Return to the Orthodox Church, and thou shalt find friends enough."
The mighty Daûd deigned for once a glance at Iskender. The house of Mûsa were fanatics in religion.
Elias took Iskender's hand and went out with him.
"The news is bad for me, too," he said ruefully, "for they hate me also—curse their religion!"
"What matter for thee? He is not thy Emîr. For me, it is the risk of life itself."
Iskender broke away from him at the first chance, and walked back to his home upon the sandhills. His mother screamed surprise at sight of him.
"My Emîr is busy," he explained, assuming cheerfulness as a good shield from questions, which might easily have probed too far into his cause for grief. For the same reason he forbore all mention of the purposed visit of his Emîr to the Mission. "I am free to-day, and so returned to see if I could help thee in the house."
Receiving his offer of help in sober earnest, she sent him presently upon an errand to the house of Costantîn; but on the way there, with the Mission full in sight, its red tiles glaring fiercely in the noon-day sun, it occurred to him that his Emîr would surely fall in love with the Sitt Hilda. Rent by the twofold anguish of the thought, he wandered aimless for an hour, and then returned, to gape at mention of an errand. His mother hurled a saucepan at his head.
"May thy house be destroyed!" she screamed. "Nay, go not now. It is too late! Within this minute I have seen Costantîn take the road to the town. O Lord, what have I done to be thus afflicted?"
Iskender then sat down before the threshold, and fell to drawing pictures in the sand, smoking cigarette after cigarette without contentment, till he knew by the shadow of the prickly-pears that the afternoon was well advanced; when he changed his position for one commanding the approach to the Mission, lit a fresh cigarette and began his watch.
"Thou dost smoke enough for twenty men!" his mother scolded. "Thou art always asking me for cash to buy the stuff, even now when thou hast thy Emîr! Take from him, he will be none the wiser. Thou hast no more intelligence than a sheep."
Iskender heard her not. He had caught sight of the figure of a Frank moving briskly along the ridge of the opposite dune. It seemed but a second ere it passed into the Mission, and was lost to sight. Iskender fell face downwards, making some idle play with the sand for his mother's benefit, the while his heart went out in prayer to Allah. It seemed an age ere the Emîr came forth. From where he lay Iskender could not distinguish so much as the colour of his clothes, yet he fancied he could see his heart was sad or angry. Having watched him out of sight, he sprang up suddenly and strode off towards the Mission in the hope of news. As luck would have it he met Asad son of Costantîn.
"I was on my way to tell thee." That youth of promise grinned from ear to ear at the sudden encounter. He had to apply his mind for a minute to a stick of sugar-cane he was sucking before he could compose a countenance suitable to the bearer of ill tidings. "The Father of Ice—curse his father!—has done what I told thee he would do, has ruined thee with thy Emîr. He made thee out the lowest of the low, and told his Honour of thy boast that thou wouldst use his money as thy own, even to the extent of making him pay for thy education as a painter in the English schools. He told him it was wrong for him to ride on horseback beside one like thee—for whom to ride an ass were signal honour. Ah, I assure thee by Allah he has done it thoroughly. I have the story from the maid who carried tea to them. She listened by the door at my request, because I knew how nearly it concerned thee."
By way of consolation Asad offered to his friend a length of sugar-cane he had himself sucked three parts dry. It was accepted blindly. Iskender knew not what he did or said. He wandered by the sea till it was dark, and then went home and passed a sleepless night in dreams of wealth, by which alone it seemed his love could be cleansed from all appearance of self-interest. Before his mother awoke in the morning he slipped out, and walked into the town, where he loitered down by the quay, kicking his heels, until it was time to present himself at the hotel and learn his fate.
"The khawâjah has announced his will to ride alone to-day, and for an hour only," said Selîm the son of Mûsa, who stood sunning himself in the doorway.
The words struck like bullets on Iskender's heart, they so cruelly confirmed the tale of Asad son of Costantîn.
Elias arrived, and asked him how he did. Iskender made known his tidings in a voice half-choked by grief.
"Was any word said against me?" asked the dragoman eagerly.
Iskender shook his head.
"The praise to Allah! Take heart, O my soul! If I am still in favour, I can plead for thee."
"Thou in his favour! Thou art nought to him!" replied Iskender with a sudden burst of spite.
Elias was about to answer angrily when the subject of their speech appeared. Both sprang to their feet expectantly. But the Emîr, with a blunt "Good-morning," passed them by and mounted the horse which stood in waiting before the door. They watched him ride away, then turned and gazed into each other's eyes. Both agreed that there was nothing for it but to sit down again and await further revelations of the will of Allah.
When the Emîr returned, after less than an hour's absence, his temper had improved, for he laughed at a joke of Elias, and suffered them both to accompany him to his room. Elias pushed home his advantage, telling a succession of funny stories in exaggerated broken English. The Emîr laughed heartily, and talked with him. Iskender, abashed by the uncertainty of finding favour, dared not risk a word; and his loved one never even looked at him.
"You come with me, sir, this afternoon. I show you sefral things you neffer seen!" said Elias, when the bell had rung for lunch.
The Emîr consented.
"You see, he hears me!" cried the dragoman with exultation, when he and Iskender were once more alone together. "Confide in me, and I will lead him back towards thee!"
The touch of patronage entombed Iskender. His Emîr, to be led to him by Elias! But "Weep not, O my soul!" the latter begged him. "Come with us this afternoon and I will bring thee forward."
The son of Yâcûb longed to be alone and weep his fill, but could not leave Elias in possession. It was as a dumb and piteous plea against the usurpation of Elias, and not from any hope of reinstatement, that he attended the Emîr that afternoon, when the dragoman led them among the stinking alleys of the town, under archways and through private houses, pointing out sites of interest which Iskender felt sure were of his own invention; and he very soon wished that he had kept away. For Elias, according to his promise, "brought him forward," begging the Emîr to have compassion on him, because he was a good boy and devoted to his Honour's service. Iskender could only mutter, shamefaced, when the Frank addressed him.
"Why did you deceive me? I thought you were well off, or I should never have accepted all those presents. Now you must please accept a trifle from me."
Iskender found in his hand a piece of gold, and saw Elias nodding and grimacing. He murmured words of thanks perfunctorily, the while he gnashed his teeth with secret rage. Such kindness was an outrage to his love, being given at the bidding, in the presence, of the rogue Elias. The cup of his humiliation overflowed.
"Now all is well," Elias told him afterwards. "Be thankful that thou hast a friend like me. He smiled on thee; he gave thee money. Thou art back in favour."
Iskender was obliged to thank him kindly. What his soul needed was to be alone with his Emîr, to throw himself at his feet, and win his true forgiveness. The casual kind word with a fee was worse than nothing in the realm of love. But Elias, as if of fixed intent to thwart him, stood always in the way, annihilating the unhappy youth with condescension, bidding him cheer up and amuse his Honour. Iskender heard his rattle with a stupid admiration which the Emîr's applauding laughter made quite envious. He himself had fallen to the level of a mere serving-lad, to run his Honour's errands and be tipped occasionally.
His mother judged that things were thriving with him, since he brought home money; and he did not undeceive her, wishing to keep his grievous fall a secret as long as possible; though soon, he feared, it must be evident to all the world. Already Yuhanna and the other dragomans jeered at him in the streets, acclaiming the triumph of Elias, their own comrade. He thought of invoking the aid of his uncle Abdullah, but that respectable man was for the moment absent on Cook's business. There seemed no hope of success by his own efforts, for in the presence of the Emîr he could not now think clearly, nor find a word to please. Distress of longing set a cloud upon his brow, a weight upon his tongue, which was not lightened when Elias chaffed him for a dull companion.
It was only when alone that he regained his normal wit; and then his soul leapt up in envy of the brilliant dragoman. Elias was clever; he had seen the world; his position as a dragoman would bear inspection. No wonder that the Frank preferred him to the son of a poor washerwoman, whose lowliness Elias himself was always emphasising. Thus attacked, and without defence, since there was no denying that his origin was humble, Iskender's pride took refuge in its old imaginings. Walking to the hotel, he would picture himself a king's son in disguise, or else the owner of enormous treasure; would smile, and clench his hands, and step exultantly; would think:
"If the Emîr but knew me as I really am!" But, approaching the Emîr, such fancies vanished. They were of no use because no one would believe them. It took Elias to give truth to wondrous stories by judiciously eschewing points that could be verified. Iskender, in great anguish, prayed to Allah to destroy Elias, or at least to teach His servant a true story, that he might outshine the miscreant. Dazzled by the triumph of that splendid liar, he thought of story-telling as the only way to the Emîr's good graces; and lay awake whole nights constructing fables which the first faint light of dawn showed to be worthless.
An appeal to the good nature of his rival failed irrevocably. When Iskender entreated to be left alone with his Emîr, were it but for five minutes, Elias stiffened, crying:
"Curse thy father! What means this plaintive whisper in my ear? Thy Emîr! He was thine by his own will, and has tired of thee. Now he is my Emîr. It is natural he should prefer the society of a grown man who has dwelt in England, and acquired the manner of its nobles, to that of a loutish, sullen boy, untravelled, ignorant! Behold, I have stood thy friend. But for me, he would have cast thee off entirely.… Leave thee alone with him? No, by Allah, that I will not—and have thee telling wicked lies against me."
Iskender turned away in great unhappiness, deeming his last hope gone.
That night he lay awake and thought of wealth as the only power that could confound his enemies. At last he fell asleep and dreamt of gold—nothing but gold; small rounded pebbles of it clothed the ground for miles. It was more, ten thousand times, than all the wealth of all the kingdoms put together. The sky above was black as pitch, though something told him that the hour was noon; the gold put out the sun. "All mine!" he thought, and was preparing to gather it, but some one stopped him with an iron hand; and then he woke, to hear his mother's snores and see the flicker of the night-light on the rafters.
His first sensations were of disappointment as though great wealth had really lain within his grasp. But presently as he pondered on the vision, his heart leapt up with exultation at the thought that here was the nucleus of a story, marvellous as any that Elias had related, and true, for who save Allah had surveyed the whole wide world, and could deny the existence somewhere of a plain all gold. Moreover, it would be a story after the Emîr's own heart, concerning, as it would, the search for treasure.
"If I say that I myself beheld the place, it will be false," thought Iskender to himself, "because I am young and every one knows that I have never travelled. But suppose I say my father saw it, then it will be true, for my father is dead and he travelled far in his day, and Allah alone knows what he saw or did not see."
The rest of that night was spent upon the story, considering in what manner it should be revealed, with what precautions and what vows of secrecy. As it shaped itself in his mind it seemed a fortune hardly less than that he had beheld in sleep. He rose at daybreak, thought-worn but light of heart. As it happened, that morning, his mother sent him to the Mission with a message concerning some mistake she had discovered in the tale of the last week's washing. He had to wait the pleasure of the ladies, to carry a message from them to his mother, and bring back her answer; so that it was past the usual hour when he reached the hotel. He met the Emîr and Elias going out together.
"His Excellency has graciously consented to honour with his presence an orange-garden which belongs to me," said the dragoman to Iskender in Arabic. "The weather is fine, like summer; the fruit ripens. It will be pleasant reclining in the shade."
The whole world swam before Iskender's eyes around the handsome figure of Elias, whose scarlet dust-cloak seemed a flame of fire. What was a plain of gold in the truest of stories to compare with an orange-garden actually existent close at hand? He had prepared to vanquish Elias in one sphere, and the coward leapt into another where he could not reach him. Never till now had he heard that Elias owned a garden. This was the end. Iskender resigned a contest so unequal. He heard the Emîr invite him to go with them, but shook his head, quite unable to articulate a reply. The despair of his mother, the hateful triumph of the missionaries, the derisive laughter of the dragomans, came before his mind. Some one, passing by, gave a chuckle. He sprang to self-consciousness with the impression that the whole world laughed. The doorway of the hotel was near. He fled through it, pretending that he had come to claim the sketching things he was wont to leave in charge of the doorkeeper. With those in his hands he hurried forth again, glad to escape the negro's friendly grin.
Half-blind with tears and rendered witless by despair, Iskender had walked half the distance to his mother's house before he realised that he had no desire to go there. A pool of shade by the roadside inviting, he sat down in it, and gave the rein to grief. It was with a mild surprise that, when his sense returned, he found himself under the ilex-tree before the little church which Mîtri served. Afraid of interruption he looked round uneasily. But no one was in sight, and he was loth to move. He opened his sketch-book for a suggestion of employment in case any one should espy him, and returned to sorrow.
From the group of hovels close at hand came women's voices and the cluck of hens; over his head, among the branches of the oak-tree, doves were cooing. The plumes of the two palm-trees hung dead still amid the sunshine! the shade in which he sat was quite unruffled. A train of camels sauntered by along the sandy road, with clanging bells, their driver chanting softly to himself. Iskender's heart went out in yearning to the peaceful scene. He envied the dwellers in those low mud-hovels, who led their simple lives with praise to Allah; envied the poor camel-driver singing in the sunshine as he jogged along. Alas for him, he had no part with these, but was a Protestant, a stranger in his native land, a monstrous creation of those English who had cast him off, a byword, a bad joke. The iridescent plumage of some pigeons, which, emboldened by his stillness, came strutting and pecking on the ground before him, drew his gaze; and, half-unconsciously, he began to trace their likeness on the page before him. While thus engaged he heard a stealthy tread behind him, and felt a breath on his neck as some one leaned above him to inspect his work. In a flash he remembered the beautiful child, the daughter of Mîtri, and his heart beat fiercely. The violent change of emotion paralysed him for some seconds; then he turned round suddenly and made a grab. The girl suppressed a scream, and tried to run, but he had caught her arm. With joyful eagerness, though the tears of despair were still wet on his face, he pleaded:
"Why wouldst fly from me, my soul? Why art thou here if not to talk with me?"
"The picture," she murmured angrily, pulling against him hard, with face averted.
"The picture is it? Only stay till it is finished, and I will give it thee with pleasure."
"No, no, I tell thee; let me go or I will tear thy eyes out! Art thou not a Brûtestânt, a dog? Thy touch is defilement. How canst thou continue in that lying faith? Art thou not scared each night at the thought of the devils and the eternal fires?"
She gave up resistance, and stood surveying him with great round eyes of horror, fascinated by the sight of a creature doomed to everlasting torment. The feel of her slight brown wrist was like a snake for coolness. Iskender ventured to caress it with his fingers. But at the touch she snatched it from him angrily, and sprang to a safe distance.
"Thou hast been weeping; why?" she asked with a cool directness, which was like a sword-thrust in Iskender's heart. His woe broke out afresh.
"O Lord!" he blubbered. "I have none to love me. My Emîr, whom I love truly, casts me off. The Brûtestânts, who brought me up, despise me. The Christians call me dog!"
"O man, stop crying, for it frightens me." Nesîbeh came again and leaned over him. "Be sure thy sorrow is from the hand of Allah to punish thy errors and disgust thee with them. My father says that calamities are often sent as warnings to the reprobate. Be thou warned, O my dear, and return to the Church. Then our Lord will be pleased with thee, and make men love thee."
"And thou—wilt thou too love me, or still call me dog?" Iskender seized her hand again, though she resisted furiously. But the words were cut in his mouth by a heavy hand which smote him sideways, deafening one ear; and when he recovered from sensations of a general earthquake, it was to find himself alone with Mîtri.
The priest stood smiling down on him with folded arms.
"What means this, O son of a dog?" he said through clenched teeth. "Dost thou take us, by chance, for Brûtestânts, for shameless heathens? Praise be to Allah, we are quite unused to Frankish manners. Respect our daughters as thou wouldst the daughters of the Muslim, or harm will come to thee."
At those words all his former misery returned upon Iskender. He buried his face in his sleeve.
The anger of the priest turned to astonishment. After staring for a minute, he sat down beside the youth and, putting his arm round his neck, inquired:
"What ails thee, O my dear? It cannot be that thou dost weep so bitterly because I struck thee, nor yet for penitence in the matter of my daughter. Such things afflict not thus the mind of youth. Come, tell me what it is! Open thy heart. Who knows but, in Allah's mercy, I may be of help to thee?"
Iskender lifted his eyes for one swift glance at his would-be consoler, then hid them once more in his hands. The expression of the priest's strong face commanded confidence, and he felt the need of a friend. After a second's hesitation, he confessed all: how he had deceived the Emîr at first as to his worldly station, how that deception had given the missionaries power to set his lord against him, and then how Elias, by unheard of perfidy, with diabolical arts, had taken possession of the Emîr, and prevented Iskender's obtaining the private audience which would have put things right.
The priest heard him to the end, then eyed him curiously.
"Allah is merciful!" he observed. "See what it is to be an infidel. Had this happened to me I should simply have turned away with a shrug and 'Praise to Allah.' But this youth has been taught to put his trust in worldly things, and when these fail, as fail they always do, he comes near to kill himself."
"I am no longer a Brûtestânt!" rejoined Iskender vehemently. "Allah knows I hate the race of them! But I have not yet told thee all my cause of grief—all the perfidy of the fiend Elias. It was bad enough when I supposed him poor like me. Now it seems he is the owner of an orange-garden. I knew it not until this morning. He has taken my Emîr away to feast there in the shade. How can I ever compete with a rich landowner?"
"I ask pardon of Allah! An orange-garden? Elias own an orange-garden? Never, in this low world! Now whither has he led the good khawâjah?" Mîtri laid a finger between his eyebrows, and thought deeply. Anon his face brightened. "If I give thee thy revenge upon Elias," he demanded, "wilt thou swear by the Incarnation to forsake the errors of the Brûtestânts, and come to me henceforth for instruction in the way of right?"
"I have done already with the Brûtestânts," replied Iskender, all alert in an instant at the suggestion of a bargain; "but as to joining the Orthodox, my mind is not yet clear."
"By the help of Allah, I will clear it for thee. Come and reason with me; that is all I ask. Swear to do this or I will not help thee."
Iskender swore with secret alacrity, having the girl Nesîbeh in his mind's eye.
"That is well. Now I think I know the trick that rogue is playing. I have seen him in the company of one Muhammad, who tends the orange-garden belonging to a member of our Church, the rich Azîz; and Azîz is gone these two days upon business to El Cuds. But his brother remains with us, praise to Allah, and it is but a step from here to go and warn him. I too have a debt against Elias, who invited me to bless his house, yet never paid me. So dry thy tears, my son, and come with me."
The priest went in among the hovels, while Iskender gathered up his sketching things, with hope revived. It being noon, the brother of Azîz was in his house. It was plain he did not share his brother's wealth, for his abode was of the humblest, and in dress and bearing he was a poor fellâh. His dark face brightened wonderfully when he heard what the priest required of him. He seized his staff and called out all the neighbours, who burst out laughing when they learned the nature of his business. When Iskender joined them, however, there were looks askance; one said to another, "Is not this the Brûtestânt, the son of Yâcûb? What hand has he in this affair? It were a sin for us to vex a true believer for the pleasure of a child of filthy dogs," till the priest cried, "Welcome him, for he accepts the truth," when all gave praise to Allah. One tall fellâh forthwith embraced Iskender, and began at once to tell him of the joys of Heaven.
The brother of Azîz then led the way down a narrow path among fruit-trees to his brother's garden, which was not far off. The crowd of neighbours followed. Arrived at the gate, he ordered the women and children to remain there, while himself and Mîtri, with six turbaned men all armed with big tough staves, crossed themselves devoutly, murmured "Bismillah," put the right foot first, and stole in very quietly.
Iskender followed at a distance, contrary to the command of Mîtri, who had bidden him wait without with the women and children, till he saw them stop and whisper together, when he struck off independently. Pressing his way through the dark foliage, hung with yellowing globes and sweet with the scent of orange-flowers, he reached a secret place whence he could watch what happened.
On a carpet spread in the shade which fringed some open ground beside the sakieh, Elias and the Frank reclined at ease. Within hand's reach of them was placed a heap of oranges and sweet lemons, representing every variety which the garden produced; and between them reposed a tray on which were seen the remains of a choice repast. A creeper with a wealth of crimson flowers, wreathing a rough arbour built to shade the sakieh, contrasted the dark foliage of the fruit-trees. The sky was pure blue and cloudless. There was a hum of insects in the air. The man Muhammad, keeper of the garden, sat on his heels at a respectful distance from the feasters, watching for a signal to remove the tray. All at once this man sprang up, his mouth fell open. With a great oath he fled among the trees. Whereupon the brother of Azîz and his company threw off concealment, and came forward boldly with loud talk and laughter. Elias gazed upon them, stupefied. Before he could get on his feet, they closed around him. Iskender heard the priest cry:
"Woe to him who withholds from the Church her dues!"
Mîtri, with the brother of Azîz, then paid respect to the Emîr, engaging his attention while Elias was being led away. Guided by the outcry of the prisoner, Iskender followed his captors on a parallel line among the orange-trees. He heard the howls of derision with which the women hailed the appearance of the boaster, and their demand that he should be well beaten to reward his impudence. Iskender drew close to them and peeped out through the leaves.
"Beat me? Nay, that you dare not!" cried Elias. "The lives of all of you would not suffice my vengeance. Wait, wait till I get hold of my good sword!"
"Thy sword, if thou hast one, is of wood, O braggart!" laughed one of his captors, at the same time giving him a shove which sent him reeling up against another of the band, who straight returned him.
"Nay, nay," he protested, in his passage through the air. "By Allah, I possess one, of the finest steel. Ask Mîtri, ask Iskender; they have seen it!"
Then, as they continued their rough game with him, he screamed out:
"Are you Christian men or devils thus to maltreat me on account of a few oranges for which I paid the guardian?"
"Nay, O beloved! Allah witness, it is not the oranges we begrudge thee, but the honour thou didst take unto thyself feloniously."
"Aha, thou art the owner of this place, and we thy servants!"
"Oranges! Let him have his fill of them!"
A woman snatched an orange from the nearest tree, and flung it full in his face. He opened his mouth to remonstrate, but another orange stopped it on the instant. With a fearful oath he gave up the argument, and ran for his life, amid a roar of laughter.
Then Iskender came out upon the pathway, and walked along it till he reached the sakieh. As prearranged with Mîtri, he feigned great surprise at sight of the Emîr, exclaiming:
"I thought you said the garden of Elias. This is the garden of Azîz abu Suleymân."
"Something queer has happened," said his patron, showing great uneasiness. "These people have been trying to explain to me, but I can't understand them."
Iskender looked to the priest for elucidation. After a short conference apart with him, he was in a position to inform his lord, who, learning the deception put on him, was very angry. His Honour was for leaving the place at once; but Mîtri and the brother of Azîz would not let him depart as if in dudgeon.
The little crowd of men, women, and children, having finished with Elias, now drew near, and sat or lay in a half circle at a respectful distance from the group upon the carpet. The brother of Azîz flung oranges to them; and both he and Mîtri asked for tidings of the boaster, which Iskender was called upon to translate for the Frank's behoof. The downfall of Elias seemed complete. But the victor could not take much joy in it, for the face of his Emîr still showed nothing but annoyance.
If only Mîtri and the rest would now retire, he thought impatiently, he might throw himself at the feet of his dear lord. As it was, he was forced to make his petition lamely, calmly, shorn of all that outward self-abasement which the case demanded. It was something, however, to be sure of privacy, to know himself alone with his Emîr in knowledge of the English tongue.
"Oh, sir," he faltered, "forgif me, do, or I shall die of grief. You 'f neffer been the same to me since goin' to the Mission. I luf you, sir, enough to gif my life. I thought you would hate me if you knew my mother was a washin'-woman! It break my heart ef'ry time you gif me money; I luf to gif you things, not take things from you. If the missionaries tell you contrary, they're dam' liars. Elias thinks of money; but not me, because I luf you truly. I'll be a slafe to you. Do blease belief me!"
His lord was deeply moved. He said, "That's all right," and gave his hand to Iskender, who all at once beheld the beauty of the trees and sky, the wealth of crimson flowers above the sakieh. But when the suppliant pressed it to his lips, the Frank seemed angry, cried, "Don't be idiotic!" and glanced round him nervously.
"I luf you, sir!" pursued Iskender passionately. "By God, I neffer tell you lies again. You trust me, sir, and just be kind to me. It kills me when you luf that false Elias."
"Oh, that's all right," was the impatient answer. "I shall trust you for the future. Can't you talk of something else?"
Then it dawned upon Iskender that his Honour did not like this talk of love. At a loss, he changed his tone, but not the subject, giving his patron the true history of his difference with the missionaries, which arose from his boyish passion for the Sitt Hilda.
"Is that the young one? Not a bad-looking girl, if she dressed properly!" threw in the Emîr; and again Iskender was at a loss, for he could not conceive how dress could do otherwise than hide a woman's beauty. He returned to his own case.
"I luf you, sir, and neffer, neffer will deceif you more."
"Oh, shut up, can't you?" said the Frank disgustedly; but presently, when they had taken leave of Mîtri and the brother of Azîz, he grasped Iskender's arm in friendly wise. As they strolled together down a sandy path among the gardens, whose dark rich green encroached upon a sky of living blue, the scent of orange-flowers pervading the still air, and the murmur of innumerable bees enforcing languor, Iskender walked in heaven.
"You trust me now, dear sir?"
"Yes, yes, I trust you. I shall never forgive Elias for that dirty trick."
"It is only just what I did always tell you. He is an imbudent fellow, and a most horrible liar," returned Iskender lightly, grudging Elias even his lord's anger.
A pause ensued. Iskender had no more to say, yet dreaded silence, recalling his uncle's advice to him to keep the Frank amused—advice which he had so lately seen confirmed in the case of Elias, the amusing talker. He knew that his patron's mind, unless engaged, was sure to revert to the adventure of the orange-garden, and recall his rival, of whom he wished to obliterate the very thought.
Then, of a sudden, while he racked his brain, he was seized with recollection of his vision of the night before. It returned to him from without, by no effort of his own; and was first announced to his consciousness by the sensation of a sudden flush from head to foot. Here was a subject able to engross the Emîr's whole interest, to the exclusion of Elias from his thoughts for ever.
"Sir," he said, "I wish to sbeak to you."
The solemnity of Iskender's voice claimed grave attention. The Emîr recalled his gaze from far-off things, and fixed it upon the speaker with some awe.
Both stood stock still.
"If you blease, sir, I think I tell you better sittin' down."
Iskender had espied a Muslin tomb among the leaves ahead, a small white cube, with egg-shaped dome atop of it, having in its shade a place for the repose of wayfarers. Thither he conducted the Emîr, and both sat down. Iskender toyed with his fingers in the crevices of its rough pavement. He wished to enjoy his love alone as long as possible; and the walk from thence to the hotel was but a short one. From a garden-hedge before them, two cypress-trees stood sharply out against the jewel sky.
"I wish to sbeak to you, sir, about something which I neffer told to anybody. My mother knows, but no one else. Will you bromise, blease, to keeb it secret, what I'm goin' to tell you?"
"Yes, rather! Fire away," said the Emîr.
"Well, sir, I know of a blace where gold is found more blenty than the oranges in that garden we now come from."
"You don't? You're joking!" The Emîr stared at him.
"I do, sir. You know, there's lots of country neffer been exblored away there to the south and east, behind the Jordan. No one effer goes there. My father went there once—he was a muleteer and traffeled all about in those days—and in the desert, far away from any houses, he found a blace where bits of gold were lyin' on the ground quite thick like bebbles in a mountain wady."
"But your father was not rich," the Frank objected.
"No, sir; and just because he was not rich, he could not go again and fetch the gold. It wants horses and camels, and many men and arms to make afraid the Bedouins. My father saw that blace with his own eyes, and before he died he wrote a baber teach me how to get there. He told me he got a big biece of gold, enough to make him rich, but had to drob it after a bit, it was so heffy."
"How far is the place from here?"
"Nine days or ten, I think. When I get home I look in the baber which my father left and see for certain."
"But perhaps your father was mistaken, and the stuff he found was not gold at all."
"That might be." Iskender grasped his chin reflectively, admitting that he had not thought of that contingency. "But father was a knowing man," he added; "he looked close at things. Though he was only a boor common man, he had traffeled a great deal, and I think he'd know gold when he saw it."
"I must say I should like to go and see," exclaimed the Emîr, now warming to the subject.
"You'd better not, sir, till you make sure of brotection. The desert beeble don't like strangers hangin' round. And the Guffernment would stob you, if they got to know. I thought I'd tell you, sir, because you're kindest friend I effer had. Then by-and-by you get some friends to join you, and go with a strong barty; and then, when you've got much gold, you think: Iskender made me a nice bresent. I hobe you think so. I know I am only a boor common man, like dirt to you. But I luff you truly, sir, and wish to gif you something."
"Don't talk such rubbish," said the Emîr impatiently. "Of course we should share alike, and go together, if at all. By Jove, it would be fun!" and he began to shadow forth the expedition, Iskender helping him with tempting details. To Iskender the vision of riding for days together alone with his beloved seemed all glorious. Sitting there beside the Muslim tomb, with the Emîr talking to him like a brother in the excitement of their common dream, he lost the thought of time, and was surprised to see the fires of evening in the sky, and the shadows of the two tall cypress-trees extending right across the sandy road.
"We must find out more about that place," said the Emîr with a great yawn as he rose and stretched himself. "We must make inquiries. Other people must at least have heard of it.
"Oh, sir, I beg you not!" the son of Yâcûb cried in sudden terror. "You bromised faithfully to keeb my secret!"
"Of course, you stupid!" came the laughing assurance. "We can make inquiries without telling any one."
At the door of the hotel they found Elias waiting. He stood forth and greeted the Emîr quite unabashed, convulsed with laughter at the latter's cold amazement.
"You thinkin' of that business in the garden? Neffer fear, sir! That was all a dam' bad joke of that briest-fellow, Mîtri—I'll be efen with him yet, by Jingo!—all to pay me out because I neffer gif him nothing when he bless my house. He is a funny man, sir—that briest is! He makes me laugh fit to sblit with his awful silly jokes."
Yet while thus joyously ascribing his late discomfiture to the Orthodox priest, his manner towards Iskender showed new deference, clearly indicating that he saw the young man's hand in the business, and recognised his master in guile. Iskender was greatly shocked when his Emîr allowed that proven rogue to enter with them. What was his horror when, arrived in the bedroom, his Highness lightly asked Elias if he had ever heard of a place in the interior where gold lay on the surface of the ground.
His lord shot a glance at Iskender to reassure him on the score of secrecy. But the poor youth gnashed his teeth and clenched his hands. He saw his credit hanging on a thread, his new-found favour on the point of leaving him, Elias avenged, triumphant. The dragoman had travelled far and wide; he was sure to ridicule the tale, and prove convincingly that no such place existed. He could hardly suppress a cry when Elias, instead of laughing, pulled a grave face and solemnly affirmed:
"I know it well."
"Have you been there?" inquired the Emîr, himself astonished. "I heard of it to-day by chance, and am curious to know the whole story of it."
"Not I myself. But I know one man what went there. He left this bart of the country, though; may be dead, by Jofe, for what I know!"
Interrogated further, Elias declared that the name of the place was well known. It was Wady 'l Mulûk, the Valley of the Kings; though why he could not say, unless it were because the kings of old, who were certainly richer than kings are nowadays, derived their gold from thence. Many persons had, at divers times, set out to find that place; but few had reached it, for the reason that no one knew the road exactly, and the desert tribes were fond of killing travellers.
"Don't you make no mistake!" he concluded. "The Wady 'l Mulûk, he's there all right, only a job to find him. If you want to hear about him, I tell you what, dear sir, I ask some beebles."
"I should be obliged if you would," said the Frank.
Iskender was still in the stupefied state of one who wakes to find his dream made real. After such evidence from Elias, an unprepared, impartial person, there was no longer any room for doubt but that the gold of his vision actually existed. He felt a trifle jealous of the witness for knowing more about it than he did himself. A servant summoning the Emîr to dinner, he went out into the twilight with Elias, who still treated him with the gravest deference. As they walked away together, the dragoman still talking of the wonders of the place of gold, Iskender could not help informing him that he had certain knowledge of the whereabouts of that valley, away in the eastern wilderness, beyond the Jordan.
"Thou sayest? Now may Allah bless thee!" muttered Elias, with immediate reverence. "Allah witness how I always loved thee. I understand now why his Honour questioned me with so much mystery. You are going there together. The Emîr will furnish forth the expedition and become thy partner. Allah witness how I always loved thee. Bitterly do I repent my conduct towards thee of the last few days, and Allah knows thou hast had ample vengeance. Thou art too strong for me. Henceforth I am thy friend and loving servant. Take me also, I beseech thee, O my soul. I can be useful to thee from my wide experience in travel; and of the spoil I would claim no more than an alms or gleaning. Fear not that I shall breathe a word to any man. Elias is renowned for his discretion. Say yes, O beloved! For the love of Allah, let me go with you."
Iskender said yes, though with mental reservations. The concession set Elias upon heights of glory. He kissed Iskender on both cheeks at parting, and swore by Allah that the love he felt for him transcended that which he bore his own father and mother.