The mourners were quite alone. The voice of the city floated to them out of the distance like the hum of a mighty beehive. A little tavern at no great distance from the bank was deserted save for its owner, and he lay asleep in the shade. It was the fourth hour of the day; and not until the flush of evening have men leisure to go forth and drink the sweet air of the gardens. A stone bridge of a single lofty arch, which bestrode the wady lower down, looked at fragments of its likeness in the eddies and seemed nodding to sleep. The vast blue cope of the firmament paled everywhere towards the horizon in pearly haze. Abundance of leafage compassed the place on every side, but at one point, through a gap in the branches, the old wall of the city was visible, the white cube of an upper chamber peeping over it with a bulging lattice, and a single minaret cleaving the soft distance.
“Be comforted, O my master!” said Selìm, at length, when smoking had brought him to a less gloomy point of view. “Look! the very birds are frightened by the voice of thy grieving.” He pointed to certain which were flitting uneasily from twig to twig with alarmed chirrup and twittering. “It is a great loss, I grant thee. To a small man like me it would be ruin. But for thee, effendi, it is only a mishap—most grievous without doubt, and I suffer with thee. Thou hast lost what was in thy hands to spend; but the head of thy money remains—those lands and that palace of which thou spakest yesterday, and all the wealth belonging to thee in thy own place.”
At these words Saïd writhed as if a serpent had bitten him. The extreme depth into which he was fallen rendered him careless of dishonour in the opinion of this muleteer. There was a ring of peevishness in his bitter cry as he made the avowal—
“It was a lie—the word that I spake to thee. I have nothing but that thou wottest of, which is lost. True, I was a great one formerly. Men pressed to kiss were it only the hem of my robe when I walked abroad. But there was an end to my greatness. My enemy, who hated me, was appointed Caimmacàm, and used his power as governor to my ruin. I was robbed and my robbers were openly screened from vengeance. One night certain of the Council that were my friends came privily to my house—a palace it was, by Allah!—and told me of a plot to slay me. Then I fled away by stealth, riding upon the horse thou sawest, taking only a woman that was dear to me and money sufficient for the journey. The woman fell ill by the way and I left her in the house of one who befriended me. Alas, it may be she is dead ere now!
“Woe is me, I am ruined! … Yesterday I was prosperous, having a servant and money enough—now look!—I am a crushed worm and there is none to pity me. … Allah, in mercy take my life also!”
And at that his moaning broke out afresh.
“Now, by my beard, thou speakest folly,” said Selìm, gravely. “Thou sayest: ‘Yesterday I had a servant,’ when today thou lackest not a man to do thy bidding. It was not well to hide the truth from me, effendi. It is with a servant the same as with a partner or a woman. Acquaint him fully at the first, for living always with thee he will presently come at the knowledge though thou wouldst conceal it. Am I not bound to thee for one month by token of sixty piastres and this rich garment which thou gavest me? A robe like this is worth much gold, let the Franks laugh if they please. Selìm is not a dog of an infidel that he should forsake his benefactor, whom Allah has smitten.
“Take heart, O my master! Besides the sixty piastres I have other moneys of my own—a little, it is understood—very little. With all that I have I will buy merchandise—small things such as men hawk through the streets in a basket. Deign to share with me, effendi, nor think it shame because I am a muleteer while thou art learned and of a good house. I will find out some shaded place where thou mayst sit at ease behind the basket containing our wares while Selìm praises the goods for sale in a loud voice, luring them that pass by to pause and examine them. Selìm will be thy servant then as now. Only, at the end of the day when there is no more traffic, we shall divide the profits equally as partners. Is it agreed, O my lord? I know well that it is a shame for thee to take part with a man like Selìm in the open street where all may see thee—it is natural. But that is only the beginning. Afterwards, when our wealth increases, we will hire a stall in one of the finest markets; when thou shalt be a great merchant, I promise thee, and Selìm, being thy servant, and also (secretly) thy partner, shall partake of thy prosperity. What sayest thou?”
It was long ere Saïd would let himself be won over to this or any other compromise with misfortune. For hours he held out against his servant’s entreaties, moaning always
