Once or twice Saïd caught a glimpse of Selìm among the crowd in the streets, but on each occasion was able to dodge aside and avoid him. He would have rejoiced to know him happy and doing well, but was ashamed to meet him face to face. For this reason he shunned the great bazaars and more crowded ways in his walks abroad.
At least once in every day he was drawn to the house of Yuhanna the Christian. Sometimes he went thither at evening, when a deep earth shadow wrapped the city, and the western hill was black against an orange glow; more often in the early morning, while the ways were yet shady. Hid in the angle of the porch he could observe all that passed in the court within. The very stones of the pavement had charm for him. His beloved came and went, appeared and disappeared, now crooning a love-song with her baby brother in her arms, now mocking the coo of the pigeons, now romping with a maidservant. Whether she stood on tiptoe with head thrown back and arms uplifted, her long tresses reaching almost to her heels, to pull down the branch of a lemon-tree and see if a certain fruit were yellowing; whether she stamped her foot in sudden anger at the clumsiness of a servant, or slapped the child, who loved to bury his tiny hands in her hair and sometimes caused her pain—whatever she did was full of grace in Saïd’s eyes. He would con over her moods and postures afterwards as he lay awake at night, tossing feverishly with a fire at his heart. Crouching in the shadow of the entrance he feasted his eyes on her beauty of form and motion, until someone came to disturb him, when he stole back in the blue shadow of narrow alleys, shunning instinctively the sunlight and open places, with a singing in his ears.
At such times he went not to the tavern of Abu Khalìl, but straight to the cellar of Nûr. The old woman listened kindly to his ravings, and soothed him with hints of hope, bidding him have but a little patience and he should be satisfied. The girl’s father, she said, was a wealthy merchant, a Nazarene, and under protection. It would be unsafe to carry her off in a time of quiet, for the Frankish consuls would be sure to clamour for vengeance. Alas, in these days none but a true believer could be wronged with impunity. But a change was at hand. Wherever she went—in the palaces of the great as in the cellars of the poor—she heard murmurs of discontent. Men’s forbearance was taxed to the utmost. A little more—a feather, it must give way, and then Allah knew what would happen! There would be riot—that at least was certain—and amid the confusion of a whole city’s rising one girl could be abducted and no man know it. Saïd must therefore wait and trust in Allah.
He drew some momentary comfort from this assurance, but his desire grew with every day, threatening to consume him. Old Mustafa rejoiced secretly at the haggard looks of his young ally. He strove by all means to foster a longing which promised to fall in timely with his scheme of revenge. He spoke rapturously of the charms of Yuhanna’s daughter when they sat together among the gardens in the pale evening; and he would hug himself with glee when the fisherman leapt up and cursed the day he was born, beseeching Allah to strike him dead, for what was life to him without his darling!
One morning, as Saïd lounged in the tavern of Abu Khalìl, a dehlibash entered, followed by an obsequious private. His uniform was that of the irregular troops distributed for a safeguard among the country towns and villages. He cast a keen glance round the coffeehouse, passing over Camr-ud-dìn and his father and two Christian lads drinking arak together in a corner, until his eye rested on Saïd.
“Yonder is the man for us—what sayest thou, ’brahìm?”
“A strong man!—a fine man!” agreed the soldier, bending his right arm and feeling the muscle thereof to confirm his meaning.
“Look here, O what is thy name?” said the officer, addressing Saïd; “if thou hast a mind to earn ten piastres, rise up and follow me!”
If he wished to earn ten piastres! O day of blessing! O day of good luck! Upon his head he would serve his Excellency. To hear was to obey. Might Allah preserve his Honour’s life forever! What might be his Grace’s further orders?
The officer strode out of the tavern again, motioning him to walk with the private soldier. In this order they traversed the city. Passing out at an eastern gate they came to a wide-open space where grass grew in ragged patches. Under some big trees which bordered the parade ground was a motley gathering of men and horses. The arrival of the dehlibash was hailed with loud blessing and cringing salaams. A steed was apportioned to Saïd, while the officer counted his men.
“Praise to Allah, the tale is complete!” he said with a sigh of relief; and then, looking at his watch, “It is lucky that it is so, for it wants but a half of the appointed hour. Here, ’brahìm, let this man wear thy paletot and give him a gun! At present he has nothing of the soldier about him. At an ordinary time it does not matter; but a friend whispered me this morning that the Wâly himself purposes to review us; and it is likely Abdul Cader will be with him. He is a great general by Allah, is Abdul Cader—his eyes are as the eyes of an eagle. Well”—he shrugged his shoulders and spread out his hands in deprecation—“if the Government can only afford to pay seventy soldiers and I am obliged to maintain a hundred, is it my fault
