“She will go with me to Masr, as was at first arranged,” he said soothingly. “Let thy mind have rest concerning her. My passport is so worded that she may journey with us unquestioned. The mother of Mûsa will be glad to have her company in a strange land, for they love one another, and Hasneh is very skilful in all housework. Be assured, O my brother! By Allah’s leave, thou shalt find her safe when thou rejoinest us yonder. But alas! how can I part from thee, O my soul! As long as I live I am thy servant, for the sake of the kindness thou hast ever shown me, from the day thou didst give me that rich garment, the root of my honour, to this hour. Couldst thou not swim as well to one ship as to another? and what are two days that they should have power to ruin thee? I will find out some private place where thou mayst be snugly hid. Allah forbid that ever I should part from thee!”
But a great unreasoning fear possessed Saïd, and nothing which Selìm could say might change his purpose. The father of Mûsa blubbered like a baby. Saïd himself was deeply moved, but otherwise, the dread of this instant peril swaying him. Moreover, a thought of the fair ones awaiting him in that distant land of the English helped somewhat to soften the parting on his side. He spent the rest of daylight in preparing for his venture. By the agency of Selìm he procured a stout leathern bag of handy size, wherein he stowed all such of his belongings as seemed indispensable. Of the things which remained over he gave some to Hasneh and some to Selìm, according to their nature and use. Towards evening Selìm went forth to make inquiries, whilst Saïd did somewhat to comfort Hasneh. After a very little while he came back in a hurry, and with a face full of concern.
“It may not be, O my brother,” he said, “thou canst by no means swim to the steamer. Know that there has lately been much emigration—of Christians for the most part, and Drûz out of the mountain. It is their custom to do even as thou purposedst; and to check the tide of them, a watch is set upon the beach at night with orders to fire on all who take the water. Allah have pity! I know not what is to be done.”
Saïd paced the paved yard of the khan, raging like a hunted beast at bay, while Hasneh, in hopes that she might not lose him after all, sobbed with relief. At length he stopped short in his prowl, and, lifting hands and eyes to heaven, “Allah succour me!” he muttered fiercely. “I will take the risk of it.”
XI
About an hour after sundown Saïd took a sad farewell of his friends, and, all alone, went forth to the shore. He wore an ample cloak of haircloth to conceal the leathern sack he carried. As he made his way through the concourse of the streets his heart thumped so loudly against his ribs that he thought all men not deaf to hear it. On the sea-beach, where the din of the city mingled as a distant murmur with the sigh of the ripples, the clamour of it filled his brain.
The wide bay lay smooth and glassy, fringed along the shore with points of yellow light shining among dark forms of trees and bushes. The mountains rose in outline beyond, ending seaward in a bluff promontory, the lights of many villages plainly seen upon the nearer slopes. A dusky gloom was on all the land—the velvet of a moth’s wings. The lamps of the shipping had dancing pendants in the water.
Saïd tried to seem careless, as if he strolled for pleasure. It was dark and he met no one after he had won clear of the town; but his fancy peopled every wall and garden, every shrub of tamarisk to landward, with soldiers on the lookout; and in spite of all his endeavours the manner of his going betrayed uneasiness. The cry of a mariner wafted across the still water was startling, as if one had called him by name.
He could see the English steamer, a dark mass, with a funnel and three masts, lying motionless a good way out. A red light in the bows shed a sparkle of rubies in the near water. He strove to judge of the distance, seeking that part of the shore which would most favour his project.
A ruined wall ran out a little way on to the sand. On the side remote from the town he sat down and strove to think. A great pulse throbbed in his brain, so that his whole frame was shaken with it. The sea and the lights and the mountains swam before his eyes; the very wall seemed to rock as he leaned against it. The sharp yelp of a dog among the gardens rang bewilderingly in his ears.
At length, his mind growing clearer, he lighted a cigarette and smoked it to the end. Then he got up and took off his garments one by one, throwing some away, and binding others with a sash to the well-filled leather-bag. When he was naked he sat down again, and, holding the bundle pressed on his cap and turban, set to work to lash it to his head with strips torn from his cast-off raiment. By vigorous shaking he made sure it was quite firm, then he stole to the end of the wall and peered cautiously forth.
Two men were approaching—soldiers with rifles on their shoulders. The wall alone had prevented him from hearing their voices. The place he had chosen was sheltered and convenient for keeping watch upon the shore to northward. It was most likely that they were making for it. There was not a second to be lost.
With a bound
