As a result of Fitnah’s allegations, Murjânah Khânum called a council of the matrons of the family, including in the number her ex-slave, Gulbeyzah, who, as Barakah’s best friend, might plead her cause. But Gulbeyzah, when the case was laid before her, shrugged and cried:
“By Allah, it is true, she will destroy the child! How often have I tried to warn her! But she is haughty in her weakness, and impatient of advice. She loves the fawning voice of her own servants. She has greatly changed. Yûsuf Bey, however, is for discipline. She has more than once complained to me of his severity towards the boy.”
“What good is that when she consoles Muhammad afterwards, and talks about his cruel father? I have heard her,” put in Na’imah, who was a member of the conclave, though a child in years. She spoke with great excitement. All the ladies smiled. Murjânah Khânum touched her cheek affectionately, and called her the most excellent of little mothers. Murjânah added:
“The whole trouble, as I see it, is her want of faith. She has lost the comfort of her own religion, without acquiring ours in more than name. Is such a woman, full of cowardice and self-indulgence, fit to rear a Muslim? Unless she change her whole behaviour, which appears unlikely, for her strength is gone, will it be wise to leave the child with her?”
“No!” came from all sides.
“Let his grandmother take charge of him,” said Leylah Khânum.
“God forbid!” cried Fitnah, “lest his mother hate me. Let him be given to the wisest, most benign of women, to our dear Murjânah.”
This motion won applause from all the ladies on the divan. They smiled to one another with rouged lips and kohled eyes. The room was beautifully cool and sweet, the cigarettes were of the best, the coffee excellent, and everyone enjoyed the sense of doing serious business.
Murjânah showed no fear of the responsibility. Assured of Fitnah Khânum’s gracious help, she said the task of civilizing the small boy would not displease her; but first the menfolk had to be consulted, and due warning must be given to the luckless mother. The ladies Fitnah, Leylah, and Murjânah were deputed to convey the verdict of the council to the Pasha and to Yûsuf Bey, who were invited to Murjânah’s rooms that evening.
Yûsuf displayed some irritation when he heard the charges.
“But my wife is a Frank!” he cried. “Allah knows it is but natural her ways should be different from ours.”
Murjânah took no notice of the interruption, but proceeded to relate the scene described by Fitnah. She mentioned also facts which he could not gainsay, as that Muhammad never kissed his father’s hand, that he sat down in his father’s presence without asking leave, and that he did not wait upon his parents as behoved a child. Yûsuf was silenced, though he looked annoyed. The Pasha wore his blandest diplomatic visage.
“With thy permission, O my lord,” said the great lady, “we have thought upon this matter and discussed it fully. If it be allowed for us to proffer a suggestion, it is that thou, who didst endow the bride of Yûsuf and stand in some sort for her people at the wedding, shouldst of thy gracious favour go and reason with her.”
The Pasha, fingering his beads, observed that God is merciful.
“Of thy kindness condescend to view the case,” she urged. “The boy is brought up utterly devoid of reverence. What is his fate when he goes out to face the world—unmannerly, rebellious, a mad dog, a savage, detestable alike to great and small. Of what use will he be to El Islam? Oh, God forbid that he should grow like that—a scourge to his two parents, and the scorn of others. It is to save him and his mother from the consequences of her folly that we beg thee of thy mercy to remonstrate with her, and if she will not hearken, to confide the education of the child to us. The word is spoken. May our Lord preserve thee ever!”
“May Allah help us all!” replied the Pasha gently.
When he and Yûsuf had departed from the ladies and were returning through dim corridors to the selamlik, he inquired:
“What sayest thou?”
“They much exaggerate,” said Yûsuf warmly. “I keep an eye upon the boy. In course of time I shall correct his conduct.”
“Do it now!”
“What meanest thou? Why dost thou smile, my father?”
“I smile because I have observed that when the women take that tone—‘of thy great kindness deign to listen,’ and the rest, there is no safe course for man but to obey. The boy is five years old and it is time he learnt behaviour. It is thy business, O my son; remonstrate with her.”
“Nay, for they charged thee with the office.”
“It is thine of right.”
“Very gladly I resign it to thee. Thy words have more weight. And how can I turn round upon her suddenly? She will think me mad.”
“By Allah, I implore thee to perform thy duty.”
“By the Prophet, I beseech, adjure thee to befriend me now, as thou hast done from childhood. I will tell her to expect a visit from thee in the morning.”
“Well, God is greatest!” The good Pasha heaved a sigh, proclaiming his acceptance of the part allotted.
Accordingly, next morning, arrayed in his official black frock-coat and newest fez, he waited upon Barakah, who received him with delight, evidently unsuspecting the real purpose of his visit. He thought that Yûsuf might at least have warned her. However, with a shrug, he opened business in his usual courtly and confiding manner, speaking in French, since servants are born eavesdroppers.
“Madame my daughter,” he began, “from the moment when you did my house the honour of espousing my dear son, I have been your servant
