“It is all finished. There is no more hope for you and your cousin.” And he shows the Patriarchal Bull, and explains.
Whereupon, Najma and Khalid’s mother go out weeping, wailing, beating their breasts and cheeks, calling upon Allah to witness their sorrow and the outrageous tyranny of the priests.
“What has my son done to be excommunicated? Hear it, ye people, hear it. And be just to me and my son. What has he done to deserve the anathema of the Church? What has he done?” And thus frantic, mad, she runs through the main street of the town, making wild gestures and clamours—publishing, as it were, the Patriarchal Bull, before it was read by the priest on the following day, and tacked on the door of the Church.
Of this Bull, tricked with the stock phrases of the Church of the Middle Ages, such as “anathema be he,” or “banned be he,” who speaks with, deals with, and so forth, we have a copy before us. But our readers will not pardon us, we fear, if further space and consideration be here given to its contents. Suffice it to say, however, that Khalid comes to church on that fatal day, takes the foolscap sheet down from the door, and, going with it to the town-square, burns it there before the multitudes.
And it came to pass, when the Bull is burned in the town-square of Baalbek, in the last year of the reign of Abdul Hamid, some among the multitudes shout loud shouts of joy, and some cast stones.
Then, foul, vehement speaking falleth between the friends and the enemies of him who wrought evil in the sight of the Lord;
And everyone thereupon brandisheth a stick or taketh up a stone and the battle ensueth.
Now, the mighty troops of the Sultan of the Ottomans come forth like the Yaman wind and stand in the town-square like rocks;
And the battle rageth still, and the troops who are come forth to part the fighting multitudes, having gorged themselves at the last meal, can not as much as speak their part:
And it came to pass, when the clubs and spades are veiled and the battle subsideth of itself, the good people return to their respective callings and trades;
But the perverse recalcitrants which remain—and Khalid the Baalbekian is among them—are taken by the aforesaid overfed troops to the City Hall and thence to the vilayet prison in Damascus.
And here endeth our stichometrics of the Battle of the Bull.
Now, Shakib may wear out his shoes this time, his tongue, too, and his purse, but to no purpose. Behold, your friend the kaimakam is gloomy and impassive as a camel; what can you do? Whisper in his ear? The Padres have done that before you. Slip a purse into his pocket? They have done that, too, and overdone it long since. Yes, the City Hall of every city in the Empire is an epitome of Yildiz Kiosk. And your kaimakams, and valis, and viziers, have all been taught in the same Textbook, at the same Political School, and by the same Professor. Let Khalid rest, therefore and ponder these matters in silence. For in the City Hall and during the month he passes in the prison of Damascus, we are told, he does not utter a word. His partisans in prison ask to be taught his creed, and among these are some Mohammadans: “We’ll burn the priests and their church yet and follow you. By our Prophet Mohammad we will …” Khalid makes no reply. Even Shakib, when he comes to visit him, finds him dumb as a stone, slain by adversity and disease. Nothing can be done now. The giant excommunicated, incommunicative soul, struggling in a prison of sore flesh, we must leave, alas, with his friends and partisans to pass his thirty days and nights in the second prison of stone.
Now, let us return to the Jesuits, who, having worsted Khalid, or the Devil in Khalid, as they charitably put it, will also endeavour to do somewhat in the interest of his intended bride. For the Padres, in addition to their many crafts and trades, are matrimonial brokers of honourable repute. And in their meddling and making, their baiting and mating, they are as serviceable as the Column Personal of an American newspaper. Whoso is matrimonially disposed shall whisper his mind at the Confessional or drop his advertisement in the pocket of the visiting Columns of their Bride-Dealer, and he shall prosper. She as well as he shall prosper.
Now, Father Farouche is commissioned to come all the way from Zahleh to visit the brother of Abu-Khalid their porter, and bespeak him in the interest of his daughter. All their faculties of persuasion shall be exerted in behalf of Najma. She must be saved at any cost. Hence they volunteer their services. And while Khalid is lingering in prison at Damascus, they avail themselves of the opportunity to further the suit of their pickle-herring candidate for Najma’s love.
The Reverend Farouche, therefore, holds a secret conference with her father.
“No,” says he, “God would never have forgiven you for giving your daughter to one utterly destitute of morality, religion, money, and health. But praise Allah! the Church has come to her rescue. She shall be saved, wrested from the hands of Iblis. Yes, Holy Church, through us, will guide her to find a god-fearing life-companion; one worthy of her charms, her virtues, her fine qualities of heart and mind. The young man we recommend is rich, respected in the community; is an official of the Government with a third-class Medjidi decoration and the title of Bey; and is free from all diseases. Moreover, he is a good Catholic. Consider these
