She gave no answer nor any sign that she heard, but weighed heavily upon him. Looking down, he realised that she had swooned.
The little boy, escaped from her embrace, was trotting eagerly towards the door of the house, through which rich carpets and other furniture of price were being flung out pell-mell. Saïd, who was fond of children, called to him that there were devils in there, and bade him fly to some neighbour’s house. Whereupon the little fellow toddled for the street in terror of his life.
He had raised the fainting girl in his arms and was bearing her swiftly towards the outer gate, when Mustafa overtook him.
“Aha, thou performest thy part? It is good—very good! Now listen!—I slew him. See, his blood is still warm on my left hand. … I was the first to plunge a knife into him; but, before I smote, I made him teach me the place where his treasure lies hid. At my bidding the multitude held their hands and stood back, knowing that I had private cause to hate him. He told me readily, in a whisper, thinking to save his life. But I slew him—with this knife I slew him. It is a good knife—a sharp knife. By Allah, I love this knife as my brother from this day forth. Ha, ha!”
He sank his voice.
“I go now to secure the money. There is a fountain—thou knowest it?—out yonder among the gardens, built on the pattern of a little mosque. In the pavement of its recess is a loose stone covering a hole where I am used to bury trifles. There I will conceal the wealth, and afterwards I will seek thee at the house of Nûr. Make haste, O my son! … Look, there is smoke: they set fire to the house! … The girl is pretty, and some of them might quarrel with thee for her sake. My peace go with thee!”
Saïd strode out into the street with his burden and plunged into the network of dark passages and byways he had threaded so often for desire of her. He had not gone far before she began to give signs of a return to consciousness. He paused awhile in a secluded place to give her time to recover. Presently, to his great relief, she was able to stand on her feet, though still dazed and needing support for every step. She asked not whither they went, nor seemed to care. Indeed, she evinced no mind or will of her own, but moved wherever he led her, without reluctance as without eagerness. Her beauty, and the strange sight of a Muslim shepherding a Christian maid, caused the men they met to stare at them; so that Saïd, having no wish to court notice, bade her draw the fall of her white hood across her face, as the Drûz women used to do. She obeyed by a vague movement which told that her mind wandered.
Nûr was cooking her noonday meal on the brazier when they entered. She welcomed Saïd with delight and cast a searching glance at his charge. Then, as he began to explain, she checked him with an impatient gesture and a nod of intelligence. She understood perfectly. He had been sent to sweep the streets of the infidels. Oh, the sin of it! She had heard the news from the son of Abu Khalìl when he brought some figs she had asked of his father. The whole city was ashamed. There had been a riot—not so?—and he had been rescued. And then Mustafa—the old madman!—had led the mob to the house of ’hanna, his enemy. And this then was Saïd’s beloved?
She thrust her painted face close to that pale one and scanned the features narrowly. Then she passed her hands down the loose robe, feeling the limbs beneath.
“She is sweet—a pearl!—a darling!” she exclaimed. “By Allah, thou art in luck’s way, O my soul. Art happy at last? … She neither sees nor hears us. Poor love! she is distraught with grief. It happens timely that the upper chamber is ready. I prepared it for the pleasure of a certain effendi, but his girl is a Nazarene and, in these troublous times, will not dare come hither. I will tend her there, the priceless gem! And thou must not come nigh her until the evening. Dost hear, O Saïd? She must sleep and take refreshment, and Nûr will tend her. Wait until the evening, I say; and then, when she is a little rested, I will present thee as her deliverer.”
With that she put an arm round Ferideh’s waist and supported her very tenderly up the flight of steps to the guest-chamber. And Saïd sat on his heels, rolling cigarette after cigarette, drinking glass after glass of rose sherbet, too perturbed to eat though Nûr pressed him to share her repast. And Nûr, for her part, took a malicious joy in his distress, looking forth from time to time from the door of the upper room to wag her head at him and whisper, trumpeting with her hand—
“She is sweet, I tell thee!—white as milk!—a darling! I that am a woman cannot choose but kiss her!”
XXIV
The first lilac gloom of night had fallen on the city ere the old beggar regained the vault of Nûr. A feeble glow from the brazier showed his wrinkled face ghastly pale and distorted with nervous twitchings. Madness burned in his eyes. His fingers clenched and unclenched spasmodically; his staff fell from them with a thud upon the earthern floor.
“O Nûr, hear me! Where art thou?” he cried, peering about in the darkness. “I have slain him, I tell thee—I have slain the pig ’hanna—the enemy of my house. …”
“Hist!—Hold thy peace!” The door of the upper chamber was opened and shut. There was the rustle of a dress and clank of trinkets as the old woman came down the steps. “She is up there:
