“Is it indeed thou, O Selìm?” he cried. “O day of joy! How goes thy business?”
The memory of his former scurvy treatment of the muleteer made him a little backward in cordiality. But upon Selìm embracing him tenderly as a brother, with no more than a playful reproach on the score of his desertion, he was truly delighted to see him once again; and they walked on, hand in hand, so far as their roads lay together. Saïd had little to relate. His life since their parting had been lazy and uneventful. Of the all-absorbing topic of Yuhanna’s daughter he cared not to speak, being far from secure of his friend’s approval. But Selìm, on the other hand, had much to tell. Alone, he had carried on the old business for a few days, in the hope of Saïd’s return; but things had not thriven with him. The voice of the master was gone, and he might shout till he was hoarse in praise of the wares, yet few paused to examine them. So he sold the remnant of his stock to a dealer for what it would fetch, and journeyed to the mountain-village where was his home, to dandle his baby and take counsel with his woman. On his return to the city he applied for help to Ismaìl Abbâs, the Sherìf—Saïd remembered?—who received him very kindly and gave him a letter—guess to whom! to Ahmed Pasha, to his Highness the Wâly himself! In short, he was now a member of the Governor’s household, receiving bakshìsh from all desirous to curry favour in his master’s neighbourhood.
He was in the way of honour, and (under Allah) he thanked Saïd for it. Had it not been for that rich garment Saïd gave him he would never have caught the eye of the great Ismaìl Abbâs in the first instance. Moreover, he praised his friend’s generosity and self-denial in that he had not taken his share of the slender profits of their partnership away with him. It was a magnanimous action, but then Saïd was ever the father of kindness. He had grieved much for the loss of his brother, and had even been to the cellar of Nûr seeking news of him. But the mistress of the house—a tall old woman with painted eyes—had been short with him and he could learn nothing from her.
Saïd’s heart smote him as he listened. Allah had blessed him with the truest friend ever man had, and he had slighted the gift. He squeezed Selìm’s hand and swung it lightly to and fro as they walked. Might Allah destroy him utterly and quench the fire on his hearth if ever again he gave this good man cause to reproach him.
“I rejoice in thy happiness,” he said when the time came for them to part. “And what is the mind of his Excellency the Basha with respect to the war of the Mountain? Wait a little and there shall be war in Es-Shâm on the pattern of it.”
“Alas, O Saïd, they say in the palace of my lord that should the men of Es-Shâm follow the example of the Drûz, then the downfall of Islâm is sure, for the Franks will avenge the Nazarenes, that is known. The Wâly himself is very anxious: it is said that he weeps at night in his chamber. He is a great general of renown, but he loves study better than government. One of the soldiers of the guard, who has served under him in the wars of Europe, tells me that he was ever a great general—none greater—upon paper: victory waited on his science; but he loved not the turmoil of a battle and its perils.
“His mind is now torn asunder by the demands of the Franks wishing one thing, and the advice of the elders of Islâm, who desire the opposite. In truth, it seems to me who am a small man and no politician, that he hearkens too willingly to the speeches of the Franks, the sworn enemies of the Faith. It was no wise thing that he did yesterday in ordering the dog Jurji, who did outrage on the harìm of Asad Effendi, to be released without punishment. The Franks speak as lawyers on behalf of their clients, and they strengthen their pleading by threats. This pardon of an evildoer, simply because he is a Nazarene, will madden the faithful. As I came just now through the long bazaar, a band of youths armed with sticks passed me, running towards the Christian quarter, vowing they would do justice on Jurji with their own hands. I fear the Wâly has been ill-advised in this matter. He is a great man and a politic, but he is weak, and the Franks overbear him. I fear there will be trouble. Thanks be to Allah that Selìm is not the great Wâly of Damashc-ush-Shâm, but only a small servant whose duty is plain. May Allah guard thee in safety till we meet again!”
They parted. Selìm was quickly lost in the shifting crowd of a roofed bazaar, while Saïd, striking into a quiet alley, pursued his way to the house of Yuhanna. The news of the release of Jurji rankled in his mind, making him venomous towards the Christians.
As he passed the threshold of the outer door, seeking that corner of the entrance passage whence he was used to spy on his delight, he stumbled on a pitcher someone had left there. The earthern vessel crashed upon the stones and was shattered to bits. The noise was enough to bring the whole household running to the spot. Bitterly cursing the accident, Saïd took to his heels. A little way up the lane
