A young girl of about sixteen years, clad in the close-fitting garb of the Frankish women was sauntering towards the tavern, eyeing the scene there with dreamy curiosity. She wore no headdress save her thick fair hair, which hung free down to her shoulders, where it was gathered in and confined by a ribbon. In spite of her unveiled, undraped state, which, to the mind of the onlookers, was little better than nakedness, she moved freely, without a trace of embarrassment, until she grew aware of the gaze of so many prying eyes, when she averted her face and stepped more consciously. She passed just within the sphere of the lantern, so that a faint, warm light played on the outlines of her figure, hinting rather than revealing its slender grace. Her hands clasped behind her neck threw her bosom forward, strengthening the curve of it. Saïd had often seen Frankish women and had marvelled at their lack of modesty, but he had never beheld one so fair, so young and so perfectly shameless. Believing the tale of the Nazarene, he envied the good fortune of that son of a dog.
She was passing by with a timid glance when she caught sight of the dragoman, who to that end had thrust himself forward. She smiled and nodded graciously to him, saying something kind in her own language. The man replied in a tone of familiarity which conveyed all he meant that it should to the minds of his hearers.
“Aha!” said he, as soon as she was out of earshot. “Aha! She is a peerless gem. By-and-by, when her parents sleep, she will steal out to seek me. By Allah, her mouth overflows with honey. The taste of it makes me drunken.”
The young Muslim stared after the maiden; then, turning—
“Now, by my life, thou art in luck’s way,” he said. “It is well seen how fair she is! But her father is surely a man of no understanding, and her mother must be like unto him, to let her thus wander without a covering.”
“There is one law for the daughter of an Arab, another for the child of a Frank,” said the dragoman, sententiously. “As for me, I have dwelt so much among foreigners that a veiled woman is almost a strange thing to me. And, in truth, I know no cause why a woman should veil her face any more than a man, unless she be extremely frightful or loathsome to view.”
The tavern-keeper here spoke for the first time, and severely—
“Young man, thou speakest folly, being a stranger to the Faith that saves. It is a law from of old that every woman shall hide her face from the sight of men. Know that sinful Cabil ebn Adam did lust after his twin sister, Abdul Mughis, and for her sake slew Habil, his brother, who was a good man and dear to Allah. Wherefore it was ordained that all women should hide their shape, that mere lust of the eyes might never more induce so great a crime. Allah is just and merciful!”
At that the garrulous talker was abashed, and his audience looked strange upon him. In the interest they took in his conversation they had all but forgotten the difference of creed. A pause fraught with mutual shyness ensued. Then the dragoman called for more arak and launched forth once more, though with somewhat less of assurance, feeling lonely all at once.
Saïd abode in the little tavern until the first watch of the night was almost spent. He was unaccountably interested in all that the rascal had to tell of that distant land of the English, where the sun was seldom seen, and the women were at once so lovely and so kind to strangers. He questioned the narrator shrewdly as to the state and manner of trade in those parts, and was pleased with the answers he got. It seemed that the finer merchandise of the East—as silks and rich carpets, spices and sweet perfumes—were much prized by the Franks. The way of life there was easy, he learnt, for one who had money and was warmly clad. He felt attracted, and hoped to visit that land.
He imparted this desire to Selìm as they walked back together to the city whose walls rose black before them under a sky pale with stars. But Selìm was chary of sympathy.
“It is true what the drunkard told concerning the Frankish women, how they love men of the East,” he said gravely. “Lo, is there not the English princess in our midst—she who dwells in the house called the House of the English Garden, which is beyond the Christian quarter? She submitted herself to a young man of the Bedawin, and is become his wife. It is true what the dog said. But as for thee, thou hast not yet performed the great pilgrimage; and that must be done ere thou canst think of migrating to a land of unbelief.”
“Perhaps the right is with thee,” rejoined Saïd, moodily. “Yet, from what the infidel said, it must be a pleasant land to dwell in—none like it under Heaven! Didst mark the girl, how sweet she was? By Allah, it is a shame that the son of a dog should have her. … I charge thee make all speed with the business of which we spoke. Allah keep thee in peace, and may thy night be happy!”
They kissed and parted at the city gate.
VII
Early on the morning of the second day of the week Saïd strode through the bazaars towards that familiar upper room which was his shop and which would soon be no longer his. His servant walked a little in advance of him, using the furled parasol as a staff to admonish such of the crowd as were slow to make way. All the ways were thronged with noisy
