Presently, as he stood there waiting till the alarm of the broken pot should have had time to subside, he heard loud voices approaching. A rabble of Muslim lads burst into the narrow way, cursing all the Nazarenes, and yelling that they were come to do justice on Jurji the evildoer and destroy his father’s house with fire. Most of them carried sticks; some had long knives in their hands. Seeing a man look out from the door of Yuhanna’s house they chalked the sign of the cross ostentatiously on the pavement, spat upon it, and trampled it underfoot. The head was quickly withdrawn and the door shut and bolted from within.
This seemed rare sport to Saïd. Lifting up his voice against the Christians, he joined himself to the mob.
They paraded the entire quarter, reviling all they met. Here and there a man cried shame upon them, but the most part slunk past them along the wall with a cringing salutation. At length, growing weary of their unchallenged progress, they were about to disperse, when a happy thought occurred to Saïd. He imparted it to his comrades, who were loud in acclamation. Such as had knives set to work to cut short lengths of stick, which they bound two and two together so as to form rough crosses. Then they took hold of the street-dogs, which lay around them by dozens, tied a cross under the tail of each, and with a kick sent them howling in all directions.
The fun was at its height when a man dressed in the Frankish fashion, but swarthy and wearing a fez, emerged from a doorway close by in earnest conversation with a Muslim in a fur-edged mantle of emerald green. He of the foreign garb cast one searching glance at the crowd, and then, seeing its occupation, walked off hurriedly, dragging the lawyer along with him.
“Dìn Muhammed!” Saïd yelled after them in derision. “Behold we follow thy advice, effendi!”
“Dìn Muhammed—Allah! Allah! Perish the unbelievers!” shouted a few of his companions; but the greater part were silent, seeming afraid.
“It is the dragoman of the Muscovite Consul,” one murmured with consternation. “He knows me well, whose son I am. He will surely lodge information against us and we shall be imprisoned for this day’s work.”
“Let us after and slay him!” cried another, valorous from a whole morning spent in insulting men with impunity.
“Let us go quietly each to his own place!” pleaded a third, who had cause for alarm, being well-known to the dragoman.
His advice seemed best to all, and they disbanded forthwith. Saïd went to the coffeehouse of Abu Khalìl, where he smoked a narghileh. The tale of his morning’s pastime made the fat taverner quake with inward laughter. Camr-ud-dìn and his mother stopped work to listen; the customers applauded it as a merry jest. He was obliged to repeat it from the beginning for every newcomer. At midday he made a hearty meal of lentils and bread, drank a cup of coffee, and disposed himself for a nap.
About the second hour after noon he was roused by a strong hand on his shoulder shaking him. To the first blurred glance of his sleepy eyes the whole tavern seemed full of soldiers; but when he sat up he found there were but four of them.
“A scar on his forehead,” one was saying, as if he read over a description in writing, “the beard black, tall and robust, the son of perhaps twenty-three years, his raiment striped of blue and yellow, soiled. This is the man, by Allah! … Arise, O my uncle, and come along with us!”
“What means this? What evil have I done?” Saïd rubbed his eyes and stared aghast.
“Who said thou hadst done any wrong? Not I, by Allah! To my mind thou didst well to spit upon the infidels; would to Allah thou hadst slain a few of them! But it is the Wâly’s order that thou go to prison. Make haste, O lazy one!”
Saïd was dimly aware of Abu Khalìl quaking and wringing his hands somewhere between him and the sunlight, of the voices of Camr-ud-dìn and his mother mingled in curses upon the soldiers and their ancestry. Then he was led out into the white glare of the street, where a small crowd of idlers and ne’er-do-wells gaped upon him, and ran along with his captors as an additional escort.
It was clear that the guards had orders to avoid all crowded thoroughfares, for they hurried him through dark tunnels and passages and along mean alleys of an evil savour. But with all these precautions they were obliged to cross the open space before a large khan at an hour when traffic was at its height; and such a group was sure to attract notice, even without the little crowd which followed it implicitly as the tail the dog. The person of the prisoner was much scrutinised, and questions were put to the soldiers, who answered with an “Allah knows!” and a surly shrug. All at once a well-known plaint struck Saïd’s ear.
“Allah will give to you! … For the love of Allah, take pity or I die! … O Lord! … Allah will give to you! …”
He started, and then howled “Mustafa!” with all the strength of his lungs.
“Hold thy peace, O fool, lest I strike thee on the mouth!” hissed the chief of his escort fiercely.
But the old beggar had heard his cry. The crowd parted suddenly, giving way to a wild, lean figure aflutter with rags. Mustafa raised hands and eyes to Heaven for horror of what he saw.
“What is this?” he shrieked. “Allah cut short their lives! They have taken my son—the staff of my days!—the light of my eyes! … These sons of iniquity have robbed me of my son! … O Allah! … O Lord! … O men of Es-Shâm—O fathers of kindness, will you suffer this great wrong to be done in your sight? By the Prophet, there is no sin in
