Saïd was touched by her devotion. He blessed her, but bade her speak no more on the subject for his mind was made up.
In the best chamber of the harìm a meal was set forth on a large tray of brass, beside which was spread a square of carpet. There was a savoury mess of rice and chicken meat, another of beans fried in oil; a large earthen bowl brimmed with a syrup compounded of honey and the pressed juice of grapes, in which were whole grapes floating. Two loaves were there, as flat as pancakes, besides a little heap of figs, very tempting in their purple ripeness. At sight of these dainties Saïd’s hunger strengthened apace. He took stock of them, enjoying the foretaste, while Ferideh fetched a vessel of water, a basin and a napkin from the antechamber. His washings done, he crossed his legs upon the mat, and, leaning forward, plunged a ravenous hand into the mess. Ferideh waited upon him clingingly. Her fingers had a trick of caressing whatever they touched, of dwelling lightly for a moment as if reluctant to quit hold. To watch her through the open door, bending languidly over a brazier where coffee was stewing, lifting things and setting them down with that strange touch of hers, thrilled Saïd unaccountably.
“Art thou still minded to keep lonely watch upon the housetop tonight?” she said archly, when, having cleared away the fragments of the feast, she came to nestle against him.
He answered—
“Nay, by Allah; I have no mind to do aught save content thee. Nevertheless, after I have spent an hour at thy side and thy eyes grow heavy with sleep, it may well be I shall repair again to the terrace. Understand, O my pearl, that my mind is anxious out of all reason. And to watch upon the housetop in the cool night air seems better than to be wakeful in a narrow room.”
She turned her shoulder upon him, pouting, but held her peace. His arm circled her lovingly. Of a sudden she started away and clapped her hands in childish glee.
“O my dear, I have something good for thee!” she cried, “something sweet for thee to taste. Merciful Allah! I had quite forgotten it until this minute. Wait but a little and I will bring thee a glassful hither!”
She ran from the room and shortly returned, carrying in her hand a glass filled with some amber fluid. She offered it to him.
“What stuff is this?” asked Saïd, cautiously, taking the glass in his hand and holding it up between him and a candle which burned on the wooden press by the wall, so that a ray shone through it.
“Know, O lord of all my doings, that I, thy servant, was idle after noon of this day, and I grew weary of being idle. So I called Sàadeh to me and took counsel what to do. And it happened, by the grace of Allah, that there were many figs with us in the house—of the gift of Rashìd the taverner, thy friend, who sent us yesterday three basketfuls. And it came into my mind to make a new dainty—I mean a sherbet of figs. So we made careful choice of the fruit and crushed it with sugar in a little water and set it in a pan to boil. And afterwards, when the mixture was cool again, we sipped and found it very good. And I said in my soul, O soul, my idleness has been well employed for I have devised a new dainty for the mouth of my beloved. Now taste, I pray, and tell me how thou findest!”
Saïd sniffed at the contents of the glass and made a wry face.
He said—
“The smell of it is not good. It is perhaps some trick thou wouldst put upon me for laughter’s sake. Allah grant it be no unclean thing or fierce drug to madden me. It were a sin to make me drink wine who am preparing for the pilgrimage.”
But Ferideh’s gaze of stricken love reassured him. Once more he held the potion up to the light and looked through it.
“Sherbet of figs, saidst thou? Allah have pity? Surely it cannot be. Figs are all too fleshy to yield clear syrup like this.”
Ferideh’s voice quavered a little as she replied—
“We strained it through a piece of new muslin, and when all which would run through was collected, we took the cloth with what remained therein and wrung it out over the basin. Thus we obtained much syrup. O my dear lord, it is cruel to tease me so; being as if thou didst doubt my care for thee, which Allah forbid! I beseech thee drink and tell me: Is it not good?”
Saïd sipped at the lip of the glass, then worked his tongue reflectively.
“It is not unpleasant,” he admitted. “But, by my beard, I perceive no taste of figs in it, but rather of walnuts, I should say, or something of that kind. It is sweet, however, and I am fain to drink it if by so doing, I may pleasure thee.”
At that she drew closer, with tender looks and soft speech inflaming him. When he had emptied and set down the glass she locked her hands behind his neck. She knelt close to him upon the ground, her bosom strained to his chest so that he felt its warmth. Her head was thrown somewhat back, that
