"I thank thee," rejoined Iskender loftily. "But have no fear, I say again, for my Emir esteems and loves me far too well to give ear to lying tales made up by mischief-makers. Moreover, he abhors the missionaries with such utter loathing that I think he would defile the beard of the Father of Ice did the poor wretch dare approach him. Thou supposest the missionaries to be all-powerful, as I did once. But, believe me, they are nothing thought of in their own land. My Emir would hardly deign to notice things so low. Now I must leave thee, O my dear, for my lord awaits me."

He began the ascent of the sandhill.

"Well, remember I have warned thee!" shouted Asad after him.

Relieved of the irritant of the lank youth's voice and presence, Iskender felt dismay at his own boastfulness, and repented of it humbly before Allah. He knew that a jealous eye is fixed upon the heart of every man to mark when pride leaps up and straightway blight it. To show elation was to court calamity. However, he repeated divers formulas reputed potent to avert the evil; and when, from a high point of the dunes, he saw the minarets and the square roofs of the town standing forth clear and white with the blue sea for background, beyond the gardens freshened by the rain, he clean forgot misgivings.



CHAPTER VIII

The love Iskender bore to his Emir transfigured every detail of familiar life. The walk to the hotel each morning was a joy through expectation, the return each evening a delight through memory. The vestibule in which he waited his lord's pleasure, with its marble pavement and its painted walls, a few cane chairs and tables, and a great clock ticking steadily, became the entrance-hall of paradise. Of nights the thought of sitting there next morning caused his pulse to quicken. The sons of Musa and the negro doorkeeper shared in the radiance of his loved one's neighbourhood. It was easier for his mind to pasture on accessories than to conjure up the Emir's own presence, which left the memory blind as with excess of light. At times he would recall with a thrill the lofty brow with short fair hair reposing on its summit as lightly as tamarisks upon the crest of a dune, the laughing sea-blue eyes with golden lashes, or it might be the smooth curves of mouth and chin. But the face as a whole escaped him, though he never tired of studying it, and was always trying to produce its likeness; now with pencil upon paper, now with finger in the sand. No artist in the world could hope to show the beauty of that face as he beheld it, the glow its smile diffused through all his being. Even his mother's shrieks to him to get money from the Emir enhanced his rapture, making his own pure love shine forth more brightly.

A week's fine weather followed on the rain. The Emir rode out on horseback every day, with Iskender at his right hand, and Elias, who was a showy rider, circling round them. Iskender had told Elias plainly:

"The Emir is mine. I found him; and shall keep him all my own."

"It is known he is thine," the elder had made answer with all deference. "Allah forbid that I should seem to rival thee! But his Honour has been merciful to me, and my soul is bound to him and thee in gratitude. Moreover, nowadays I have much spare time, which I can scarcely hope to spend more profitably than in the society and conversation of so exalted and refined a nobleman. He is thine and shall remain so. Only drive me not away!"

Iskender acceded to this petition the more readily that his Emir, he could see, regarded the most exquisite of dragomans simply as a standing joke. They laughed together at his superstition and his boastfulness. But their butt was really serviceable in small ways, knowing where to hire good horses at the lowest price, and pointing out in the course of their rides objects of interest of the very existence of which Iskender had been ignorant.

Never had the son of Yacub known such happiness as he tasted in those rides across the plain which basked in sunshine, with violet mountains before them and a gleam of the sea behind. Here they traversed a mud-village plumed with palms, its narrow ways alive with dogs, and fowls, and children, where Iskender shouted, "Way for the Emir!" till men and women bowed their heads and praised him; there an olive-grove profuse of dappled shade, where they were content to let their horses walk at ease. In their saddle-bags was much good food from the hotel, which they devoured at noon in some secluded spot; when Elias would discourse to them of strange vicissitudes, of beggars suddenly uplifted to the height of honour, and the Emir, reclining lazily, would smile and wink privately at Iskender, who, at every such mark of preferment, longed to kiss his feet. No marvel yet related by Elias could compare with his own good fortune in Iskender's eyes.

One evening, on their return to the hotel, when two stable-boys were leading off the tired horses, and Iskender, with Elias, stood waiting to take leave of his kind lord, the negro brought a little card to the Emir, who eyed it strangely.

"It is that missionary-man you hate so," he informed Iskender. "What in the name of Moses made him call on me?"

"Ha, ha! 'Name of Moses!'" laughed Elias, who was daily adding to his store of English idioms. "By gum, that's good!"

Iskender inwardly thanked Allah Most High for his mercy in directing the Father of Ice to call while the Emir was out. He thought no more of it. They rode again the next day and the next; his happiness went on, unshadowed, till a certain morning when the Frank announced, with a yawn, that he supposed he must return the visit of the missionary. This he gave as a reason for not riding on that day. He would write off arrears of letters in the morning, and in the afternoon would walk out to the Mission.

Iskender's jaw fell. It had never occurred to him as even remotely possible that his Emir would stoop to enter the abode of people he had always mentioned with such fine contempt. The picture of his loved one seated in the well-known drawing-room, an object of attention to the ladies, hobnobbing with the Father of Ice—his Emir, whom he had come to regard as the very counterblast of that house and all it stood for—gave him a sense of being upside down. The Frank laughed at his dismay, inquiring:

"Why so surprised? I must return the poor man's call in mere politeness."

"They hate me very much there," said Iskender miserably. "I fear they tell you things not true about me."

"I know the truth from you, don't I? Let them say what they like!"

Iskender went forth from his presence, pondering this reassurance, which contained no comfort for him, since he had given his lord to understand that he had received his education at the Mission as an independent paying pupil, and had quite concealed the fact that his mother was a washerwoman. The Emir, if he thought at all of the matter, supposed him a youth of substance. How could he think otherwise, when he heard Iskender offer to defray the cost of horses, and saw him daily bring some present in his hand? Now he would learn the truth.

Elias was standing in the doorway talking to Daud son of Musa when his friend came out. He noticed his glum looks, and asked the cause.

"My Emir is going to visit that accursed missionary, who hates me and will work my ruin if he can."

"Why then remain a Brutestant among such enemies? Return to the Orthodox Church, and thou shalt find friends enough."

The mighty Daud deigned for once a glance at Iskender. The house of Musa were fanatics in religion.

Elias took Iskender's hand and went out with him.

"The news is bad for me, too," he said ruefully, "for they hate me also—curse their religion!"

"What matter for thee? He is not thy Emir. For me, it is the risk of life itself."

Iskender broke away from him at the first chance, and walked back to his home upon the sandhills. His mother screamed surprise at sight of him.

"My Emir is busy," he explained, assuming cheerfulness as a good shield from questions, which might easily have probed too far into his cause for grief. For the same reason he forbore all mention of the purposed visit of his Emir to the Mission. "I am free to-day, and so returned to see if I could help thee in the house."

Receiving his offer of help in sober earnest, she sent him presently upon an errand to the house of Costantin; but on the way there, with the Mission full in sight, its red tiles glaring fiercely in the noon-day sun, it occurred to him that his Emir would surely fall in love with the Sitt Hilda. Rent by the twofold anguish of the thought, he wandered aimless for an hour, and then returned, to gape at mention of an errand. His mother hurled a saucepan at his head.

"May thy house be destroyed!" she screamed. "Nay, go not now. It is too late! Within this minute I have seen Costantin take the road to the town. O Lord, what have I done to be thus afflicted?"

Iskender then sat down before the threshold, and fell to drawing pictures in the sand, smoking cigarette after cigarette without contentment, till he knew by the shadow of the prickly-pears that the afternoon was well advanced; when he changed his position for one commanding the approach to the Mission, lit a fresh cigarette and began his watch.

"Thou dost smoke enough for twenty men!" his mother scolded. "Thou art always asking me for cash to buy the stuff, even now when thou hast thy Emir! Take from him, he will be none the wiser. Thou hast no more intelligence than a sheep."

Iskender heard her not. He had caught sight of the figure of a Frank moving briskly along the ridge of the opposite dune. It seemed but a second ere it passed into the Mission, and was lost to sight. Iskender fell face downwards, making some idle play with the sand for his mother's benefit, the while his heart went out in prayer to Allah. It seemed an age ere the Emir came forth. From where he lay Iskender could not distinguish so much as the colour of his clothes, yet he fancied he could see his heart was sad or angry. Having watched him out of sight, he sprang up suddenly and strode off towards the Mission in the hope of news. As luck would have it he met Asad son of Costantin.

"I was on my way to tell thee." That youth of promise grinned from ear to ear at the sudden encounter. He had to apply his mind for a minute to a stick of sugar-cane he was sucking before he could compose a countenance suitable to the bearer of ill tidings. "The Father of Ice—curse his father!—has done what I told thee he would do, has ruined thee with thy Emir. He made thee out the lowest of the low, and told his Honour of thy boast that thou wouldst use his money as thy own, even to the extent of making him pay for thy education as a painter in the English schools. He told him it was wrong for him to ride on horseback beside one like thee—for whom to ride an ass were signal honour. Ah, I assure thee by Allah he has done it thoroughly. I have the story from the maid who carried tea to them. She listened by the door at my request, because I knew how nearly it concerned thee."

By way of consolation Asad offered to his friend a length of sugar-cane he had himself sucked three parts dry. It was accepted blindly. Iskender knew not what he did or said. He wandered by the sea till it was dark, and then went home and passed a sleepless night in dreams of wealth, by which alone it seemed his love could be cleansed from all appearance of self-interest. Before his mother awoke in the morning he slipped out, and walked into the town, where he loitered down by the quay, kicking his heels, until it was time to present himself at the hotel and learn his fate.

"The khawajah has announced his will to ride alone to-day, and for an hour only," said Selim the son of Musa, who stood sunning himself in the doorway.

The words struck like bullets on Iskender's heart, they so cruelly confirmed the tale of Asad son of Costantin.

Elias arrived, and asked him how he did. Iskender made known his tidings in a voice half-choked by grief.

"Was any word said against me?" asked the dragoman eagerly.

Iskender shook his head.

"The praise to Allah! Take heart, O my soul! If I am still in favour, I can plead for thee."

"Thou in his favour! Thou art nought to him!" replied Iskender with a sudden burst of spite.

Elias was about to answer angrily when the subject of their speech appeared. Both sprang to their feet expectantly. But the Emir, with a blunt "Good-morning," passed them by and mounted the horse which stood in waiting before the door. They watched him ride away, then turned and gazed into each other's eyes. Both agreed that there was nothing for it but to sit down again and await further revelations of the will of Allah.

When the Emir returned, after less than an hour's absence, his temper had improved, for he laughed at a joke of Elias, and suffered them both to accompany him to his room. Elias pushed home his advantage, telling a succession of funny stories in exaggerated broken English. The Emir laughed heartily, and talked with him. Iskender, abashed by the uncertainty of finding favour, dared not risk a word; and his loved one never even looked at him.

"You come with me, sir, this afternoon. I show you sefral things you neffer seen!" said Elias, when the bell had rung for lunch.

The Emir consented.

"You see, he hears me!" cried the dragoman with exultation, when he and Iskender were once more alone together. "Confide in me, and I will lead him back towards thee!"

The touch of patronage entombed Iskender. His Emir, to be led to him by Elias! But "Weep not, O my soul!" the latter begged him. "Come with us this afternoon and I will bring thee forward."



CHAPTER IX

The son of Yacub longed to be alone and weep his fill, but could not leave Elias in possession. It was as a dumb and piteous plea against the usurpation of Elias, and not from any hope of reinstatement, that he attended the Emir that afternoon, when the dragoman led them among the stinking alleys of the town, under archways and through private houses, pointing out sites of interest which Iskender felt sure were of his own invention; and he very soon wished that he had kept away. For Elias, according to his promise, "brought him forward," begging the Emir to have compassion on him, because he was a good boy and devoted to his Honour's service. Iskender could only mutter, shamefaced, when the Frank addressed him.

"Why did you deceive me? I thought you were well off, or I should never have accepted all those presents. Now you must please accept a trifle from me."

Iskender found in his hand a piece of gold, and saw Elias nodding and grimacing. He murmured words of thanks perfunctorily, the while he gnashed his teeth with secret rage. Such kindness was an outrage to his love, being given at the bidding, in the presence, of the rogue Elias. The cup of his humiliation overflowed.

"Now all is well," Elias told him afterwards. "Be thankful that thou hast a friend like me. He smiled on thee; he gave thee money. Thou art back in favour."

Iskender was obliged to thank him kindly. What his soul needed was to be alone with his Emir, to throw himself at his feet, and win his true forgiveness. The casual kind word with a fee was worse than nothing in the realm of love. But Elias, as if of fixed intent to thwart him, stood always in the way, annihilating the unhappy youth with condescension, bidding him cheer up and amuse his Honour. Iskender heard his rattle with a stupid admiration which the Emir's applauding laughter made quite envious. He himself had fallen to the level of a mere serving-lad, to run his Honour's errands and be tipped occasionally.

His mother judged that things were thriving with him, since he brought home money; and he did not undeceive her, wishing to keep his grievous fall a secret as long as possible; though soon, he feared, it must be evident to all the world. Already Yuhanna and the other dragomans jeered at him in the streets, acclaiming the triumph of Elias, their own comrade. He thought of invoking the aid of his uncle Abdullah, but that respectable man was for the moment absent on Cook's business. There seemed no hope of success by his own efforts, for in the presence of the Emir he could not now think clearly, nor find a word to please. Distress of longing set a cloud upon his brow, a weight upon his tongue, which was not lightened when Elias chaffed him for a dull companion.

It was only when alone that he regained his normal wit; and then his soul leapt up in envy of the brilliant dragoman. Elias was clever; he had seen the world; his position as a dragoman would bear inspection. No wonder that the Frank preferred him to the son of a poor washerwoman, whose lowliness Elias himself was always emphasising. Thus attacked, and without defence, since there was no denying that his origin was humble, Iskender's pride took refuge in its old imaginings. Walking to the hotel, he would picture himself a king's son in disguise, or else the owner of enormous treasure; would smile, and clench his hands, and step exultantly; would think:

"If the Emir but knew me as I really am!" But, approaching the Emir, such fancies vanished. They were of no use because no one would believe them. It took Elias to give truth to wondrous stories by judiciously eschewing points that could be verified. Iskender, in great anguish, prayed to Allah to destroy Elias, or at least to teach His servant a true story, that he might outshine the miscreant. Dazzled by the triumph of that splendid liar, he thought of story-telling as the only way to the Emir's good graces; and lay awake whole nights constructing fables which the first faint light of dawn showed to be worthless.

An appeal to the good nature of his rival failed irrevocably. When Iskender entreated to be left alone with his Emir, were it but for five minutes, Elias stiffened, crying:

"Curse thy father! What means this plaintive whisper in my ear? Thy Emir! He was thine by his own will, and has tired of thee. Now he is my Emir. It is natural he should prefer the society of a grown man who has dwelt in England, and acquired the manner of its nobles, to that of a loutish, sullen boy, untravelled, ignorant! Behold, I have stood thy friend. But for me, he would have cast thee off entirely. . . . Leave thee alone with him? No, by Allah, that I will not—and have thee telling wicked lies against me."

Iskender turned away in great unhappiness, deeming his last hope gone.

That night he lay awake and thought of wealth as the only power that could confound his enemies. At last he fell asleep and dreamt of gold—nothing but gold; small rounded pebbles of it clothed the ground for miles. It was more, ten thousand times, than all the wealth of all the kingdoms put together. The sky above was black as pitch, though something told him that the hour was noon; the gold put out the sun. "All mine!" he thought, and was preparing to gather it, but some one stopped him with an iron hand; and then he woke, to hear his mother's snores and see the flicker of the night-light on the rafters.

His first sensations were of disappointment as though great wealth had really lain within his grasp. But presently as he pondered on the vision, his heart leapt up with exultation at the thought that here was the nucleus of a story, marvellous as any that Elias had related, and true, for who save Allah had surveyed the whole wide world, and could deny the existence somewhere of a plain all gold. Moreover, it would be a story after the Emir's own heart, concerning, as it would, the search for treasure.

"If I say that I myself beheld the place, it will be false," thought Iskender to himself, "because I am young and every one knows that I have never travelled. But suppose I say my father saw it, then it will be true, for my father is dead and he travelled far in his day, and Allah alone knows what he saw or did not see."

The rest of that night was spent upon the story, considering in what manner it should be revealed, with what precautions and what vows of secrecy. As it shaped itself in his mind it seemed a fortune hardly less than that he had beheld in sleep. He rose at daybreak, thought-worn but light of heart. As it happened, that morning, his mother sent him to the Mission with a message concerning some mistake she had discovered in the tale of the last week's washing. He had to wait the pleasure of the ladies, to carry a message from them to his mother, and bring back her answer; so that it was past the usual hour when he reached the hotel. He met the Emir and Elias going out together.

"His Excellency has graciously consented to honour with his presence an orange-garden which belongs to me," said the dragoman to Iskender in Arabic. "The weather is fine, like summer; the fruit ripens. It will be pleasant reclining in the shade."

The whole world swam before Iskender's eyes around the handsome figure of Elias, whose scarlet dust-cloak seemed a flame of fire. What was a plain of gold in the truest of stories to compare with an orange-garden actually existent close at hand? He had prepared to vanquish Elias in one sphere, and the coward leapt into another where he could not reach him. Never till now had he heard that Elias owned a garden. This was the end. Iskender resigned a contest so unequal. He heard the Emir invite him to go with them, but shook his head, quite unable to articulate a reply. The despair of his mother, the hateful triumph of the missionaries, the derisive laughter of the dragomans, came before his mind. Some one, passing by, gave a chuckle. He sprang to self-consciousness with the impression that the whole world laughed. The doorway of the hotel was near. He fled through it, pretending that he had come to claim the sketching things he was wont to leave in charge of the doorkeeper. With those in his hands he hurried forth again, glad to escape the negro's friendly grin.



CHAPTER X

Half-blind with tears and rendered witless by despair, Iskender had walked half the distance to his mother's house before he realised that he had no desire to go there. A pool of shade by the roadside inviting, he sat down in it, and gave the rein to grief. It was with a mild surprise that, when his sense returned, he found himself under the ilex-tree before the little church which Mitri served. Afraid of interruption he looked round uneasily. But no one was in sight, and he was loth to move. He opened his sketch-book for a suggestion of employment in case any one should espy him, and returned to sorrow.

From the group of hovels close at hand came women's voices and the cluck of hens; over his head, among the branches of the oak-tree, doves were cooing. The plumes of the two palm-trees hung dead still amid the sunshine! the shade in which he sat was quite unruffled. A train of camels sauntered by along the sandy road, with clanging bells, their driver chanting softly to himself. Iskender's heart went out in yearning to the peaceful scene. He envied the dwellers in those low mud-hovels, who led their simple lives with praise to Allah; envied the poor camel-driver singing in the sunshine as he jogged along. Alas for him, he had no part with these, but was a Protestant, a stranger in his native land, a monstrous creation of those English who had cast him off, a byword, a bad joke. The iridescent plumage of some pigeons, which, emboldened by his stillness, came strutting and pecking on the ground before him, drew his gaze; and, half-unconsciously, he began to trace their likeness on the page before him. While thus engaged he heard a stealthy tread behind him, and felt a breath on his neck as some one leaned above him to inspect his work. In a flash he remembered the beautiful child, the daughter of Mitri, and his heart beat fiercely. The violent change of emotion paralysed him for some seconds; then he turned round suddenly and made a grab. The girl suppressed a scream, and tried to run, but he had caught her arm. With joyful eagerness, though the tears of despair were still wet on his face, he pleaded:

"Why wouldst fly from me, my soul? Why art thou here if not to talk with me?"

"The picture," she murmured angrily, pulling against him hard, with face averted.

"The picture is it? Only stay till it is finished, and I will give it thee with pleasure."

"No, no, I tell thee; let me go or I will tear thy eyes out! Art thou not a Brutestant, a dog? Thy touch is defilement. How canst thou continue in that lying faith? Art thou not scared each night at the thought of the devils and the eternal fires?"

She gave up resistance, and stood surveying him with great round eyes of horror, fascinated by the sight of a creature doomed to everlasting torment. The feel of her slight brown wrist was like a snake for coolness. Iskender ventured to caress it with his fingers. But at the touch she snatched it from him angrily, and sprang to a safe distance.

"Thou hast been weeping; why?" she asked with a cool directness, which was like a sword-thrust in Iskender's heart. His woe broke out afresh.

"O Lord!" he blubbered. "I have none to love me. My Emir, whom I love truly, casts me off. The Brutestants, who brought me up, despise me. The Christians call me dog!"

"O man, stop crying, for it frightens me." Nesibeh came again and leaned over him. "Be sure thy sorrow is from the hand of Allah to punish thy errors and disgust thee with them. My father says that calamities are often sent as warnings to the reprobate. Be thou warned, O my dear, and return to the Church. Then our Lord will be pleased with thee, and make men love thee."

"And thou—wilt thou too love me, or still call me dog?" Iskender seized her hand again, though she resisted furiously. But the words were cut in his mouth by a heavy hand which smote him sideways, deafening one ear; and when he recovered from sensations of a general earthquake, it was to find himself alone with Mitri.

The priest stood smiling down on him with folded arms.

"What means this, O son of a dog?" he said through clenched teeth. "Dost thou take us, by chance, for Brutestants, for shameless heathens? Praise be to Allah, we are quite unused to Frankish manners. Respect our daughters as thou wouldst the daughters of the Muslim, or harm will come to thee."

At those words all his former misery returned upon Iskender. He buried his face in his sleeve.

The anger of the priest turned to astonishment. After staring for a minute, he sat down beside the youth and, putting his arm round his neck, inquired:

"What ails thee, O my dear? It cannot be that thou dost weep so bitterly because I struck thee, nor yet for penitence in the matter of my daughter. Such things afflict not thus the mind of youth. Come, tell me what it is! Open thy heart. Who knows but, in Allah's mercy, I may be of help to thee?"

Iskender lifted his eyes for one swift glance at his would-be consoler, then hid them once more in his hands. The expression of the priest's strong face commanded confidence, and he felt the need of a friend. After a second's hesitation, he confessed all: how he had deceived the Emir at first as to his worldly station, how that deception had given the missionaries power to set his lord against him, and then how Elias, by unheard of perfidy, with diabolical arts, had taken possession of the Emir, and prevented Iskender's obtaining the private audience which would have put things right.

The priest heard him to the end, then eyed him curiously.

"Allah is merciful!" he observed. "See what it is to be an infidel. Had this happened to me I should simply have turned away with a shrug and 'Praise to Allah.' But this youth has been taught to put his trust in worldly things, and when these fail, as fail they always do, he comes near to kill himself."

"I am no longer a Brutestant!" rejoined Iskender vehemently. "Allah knows I hate the race of them! But I have not yet told thee all my cause of grief—all the perfidy of the fiend Elias. It was bad enough when I supposed him poor like me. Now it seems he is the owner of an orange-garden. I knew it not until this morning. He has taken my Emir away to feast there in the shade. How can I ever compete with a rich landowner?"

"I ask pardon of Allah! An orange-garden? Elias own an orange-garden? Never, in this low world! Now whither has he led the good khawajah?" Mitri laid a finger between his eyebrows, and thought deeply. Anon his face brightened. "If I give thee thy revenge upon Elias," he demanded, "wilt thou swear by the Incarnation to forsake the errors of the Brutestants, and come to me henceforth for instruction in the way of right?"

"I have done already with the Brutestants," replied Iskender, all alert in an instant at the suggestion of a bargain; "but as to joining the Orthodox, my mind is not yet clear."

"By the help of Allah, I will clear it for thee. Come and reason with me; that is all I ask. Swear to do this or I will not help thee."

Iskender swore with secret alacrity, having the girl Nesibeh in his mind's eye.

"That is well. Now I think I know the trick that rogue is playing. I have seen him in the company of one Muhammad, who tends the orange-garden belonging to a member of our Church, the rich Aziz; and Aziz is gone these two days upon business to El Cuds. But his brother remains with us, praise to Allah, and it is but a step from here to go and warn him. I too have a debt against Elias, who invited me to bless his house, yet never paid me. So dry thy tears, my son, and come with me."

The priest went in among the hovels, while Iskender gathered up his sketching things, with hope revived. It being noon, the brother of Aziz was in his house. It was plain he did not share his brother's wealth, for his abode was of the humblest, and in dress and bearing he was a poor fellah. His dark face brightened wonderfully when he heard what the priest required of him. He seized his staff and called out all the neighbours, who burst out laughing when they learned the nature of his business. When Iskender joined them, however, there were looks askance; one said to another, "Is not this the Brutestant, the son of Yacub? What hand has he in this affair? It were a sin for us to vex a true believer for the pleasure of a child of filthy dogs," till the priest cried, "Welcome him, for he accepts the truth," when all gave praise to Allah. One tall fellah forthwith embraced Iskender, and began at once to tell him of the joys of Heaven.

The brother of Aziz then led the way down a narrow path among fruit-trees to his brother's garden, which was not far off. The crowd of neighbours followed. Arrived at the gate, he ordered the women and children to remain there, while himself and Mitri, with six turbaned men all armed with big tough staves, crossed themselves devoutly, murmured "Bismillah," put the right foot first, and stole in very quietly.

Iskender followed at a distance, contrary to the command of Mitri, who had bidden him wait without with the women and children, till he saw them stop and whisper together, when he struck off independently. Pressing his way through the dark foliage, hung with yellowing globes and sweet with the scent of orange-flowers, he reached a secret place whence he could watch what happened.



CHAPTER XI

On a carpet spread in the shade which fringed some open ground beside the sakieh, Elias and the Frank reclined at ease. Within hand's reach of them was placed a heap of oranges and sweet lemons, representing every variety which the garden produced; and between them reposed a tray on which were seen the remains of a choice repast. A creeper with a wealth of crimson flowers, wreathing a rough arbour built to shade the sakieh, contrasted the dark foliage of the fruit-trees. The sky was pure blue and cloudless. There was a hum of insects in the air. The man Muhammad, keeper of the garden, sat on his heels at a respectful distance from the feasters, watching for a signal to remove the tray. All at once this man sprang up, his mouth fell open. With a great oath he fled among the trees. Whereupon the brother of Aziz and his company threw off concealment, and came forward boldly with loud talk and laughter. Elias gazed upon them, stupefied. Before he could get on his feet, they closed around him. Iskender heard the priest cry:

"Woe to him who withholds from the Church her dues!"

Mitri, with the brother of Aziz, then paid respect to the Emir, engaging his attention while Elias was being led away. Guided by the outcry of the prisoner, Iskender followed his captors on a parallel line among the orange-trees. He heard the howls of derision with which the women hailed the appearance of the boaster, and their demand that he should be well beaten to reward his impudence. Iskender drew close to them and peeped out through the leaves.

"Beat me? Nay, that you dare not!" cried Elias. "The lives of all of you would not suffice my vengeance. Wait, wait till I get hold of my good sword!"

"Thy sword, if thou hast one, is of wood, O braggart!" laughed one of his captors, at the same time giving him a shove which sent him reeling up against another of the band, who straight returned him.

"Nay, nay," he protested, in his passage through the air. "By Allah, I possess one, of the finest steel. Ask Mitri, ask Iskender; they have seen it!"

Then, as they continued their rough game with him, he screamed out:

"Are you Christian men or devils thus to maltreat me on account of a few oranges for which I paid the guardian?"

"Nay, O beloved! Allah witness, it is not the oranges we begrudge thee, but the honour thou didst take unto thyself feloniously."

"Aha, thou art the owner of this place, and we thy servants!"

"Oranges! Let him have his fill of them!"

A woman snatched an orange from the nearest tree, and flung it full in his face. He opened his mouth to remonstrate, but another orange stopped it on the instant. With a fearful oath he gave up the argument, and ran for his life, amid a roar of laughter.

Then Iskender came out upon the pathway, and walked along it till he reached the sakieh. As prearranged with Mitri, he feigned great surprise at sight of the Emir, exclaiming:

"I thought you said the garden of Elias. This is the garden of Aziz abu Suleyman."

"Something queer has happened," said his patron, showing great uneasiness. "These people have been trying to explain to me, but I can't understand them."

Iskender looked to the priest for elucidation. After a short conference apart with him, he was in a position to inform his lord, who, learning the deception put on him, was very angry. His Honour was for leaving the place at once; but Mitri and the brother of Aziz would not let him depart as if in dudgeon.

The little crowd of men, women, and children, having finished with Elias, now drew near, and sat or lay in a half circle at a respectful distance from the group upon the carpet. The brother of Aziz flung oranges to them; and both he and Mitri asked for tidings of the boaster, which Iskender was called upon to translate for the Frank's behoof. The downfall of Elias seemed complete. But the victor could not take much joy in it, for the face of his Emir still showed nothing but annoyance.

If only Mitri and the rest would now retire, he thought impatiently, he might throw himself at the feet of his dear lord. As it was, he was forced to make his petition lamely, calmly, shorn of all that outward self-abasement which the case demanded. It was something, however, to be sure of privacy, to know himself alone with his Emir in knowledge of the English tongue.

"Oh, sir," he faltered, "forgif me, do, or I shall die of grief. You 'f neffer been the same to me since goin' to the Mission. I luf you, sir, enough to gif my life. I thought you would hate me if you knew my mother was a washin'-woman! It break my heart ef'ry time you gif me money; I luf to gif you things, not take things from you. If the missionaries tell you contrary, they're dam' liars. Elias thinks of money; but not me, because I luf you truly. I'll be a slafe to you. Do blease belief me!"

His lord was deeply moved. He said, "That's all right," and gave his hand to Iskender, who all at once beheld the beauty of the trees and sky, the wealth of crimson flowers above the sakieh. But when the suppliant pressed it to his lips, the Frank seemed angry, cried, "Don't be idiotic!" and glanced round him nervously.

"I luf you, sir!" pursued Iskender passionately. "By God, I neffer tell you lies again. You trust me, sir, and just be kind to me. It kills me when you luf that false Elias."

"Oh, that's all right," was the impatient answer. "I shall trust you for the future. Can't you talk of something else?"

Then it dawned upon Iskender that his Honour did not like this talk of love. At a loss, he changed his tone, but not the subject, giving his patron the true history of his difference with the missionaries, which arose from his boyish passion for the Sitt Hilda.

"Is that the young one? Not a bad-looking girl, if she dressed properly!" threw in the Emir; and again Iskender was at a loss, for he could not conceive how dress could do otherwise than hide a woman's beauty. He returned to his own case.

"I luf you, sir, and neffer, neffer will deceif you more."

"Oh, shut up, can't you?" said the Frank disgustedly; but presently, when they had taken leave of Mitri and the brother of Aziz, he grasped Iskender's arm in friendly wise. As they strolled together down a sandy path among the gardens, whose dark rich green encroached upon a sky of living blue, the scent of orange-flowers pervading the still air, and the murmur of innumerable bees enforcing languor, Iskender walked in heaven.

"You trust me now, dear sir?"

"Yes, yes, I trust you. I shall never forgive Elias for that dirty trick."

"It is only just what I did always tell you. He is an imbudent fellow, and a most horrible liar," returned Iskender lightly, grudging Elias even his lord's anger.

A pause ensued. Iskender had no more to say, yet dreaded silence, recalling his uncle's advice to him to keep the Frank amused—advice which he had so lately seen confirmed in the case of Elias, the amusing talker. He knew that his patron's mind, unless engaged, was sure to revert to the adventure of the orange-garden, and recall his rival, of whom he wished to obliterate the very thought.

Then, of a sudden, while he racked his brain, he was seized with recollection of his vision of the night before. It returned to him from without, by no effort of his own; and was first announced to his consciousness by the sensation of a sudden flush from head to foot. Here was a subject able to engross the Emir's whole interest, to the exclusion of Elias from his thoughts for ever.

"Sir," he said, "I wish to sbeak to you."



CHAPTER XII

The solemnity of Iskender's voice claimed grave attention. The Emir recalled his gaze from far-off things, and fixed it upon the speaker with some awe.

Both stood stock still.

"If you blease, sir, I think I tell you better sittin' down."

Iskender had espied a Muslin tomb among the leaves ahead, a small white cube, with egg-shaped dome atop of it, having in its shade a place for the repose of wayfarers. Thither he conducted the Emir, and both sat down. Iskender toyed with his fingers in the crevices of its rough pavement. He wished to enjoy his love alone as long as possible; and the walk from thence to the hotel was but a short one. From a garden-hedge before them, two cypress-trees stood sharply out against the jewel sky.

"I wish to sbeak to you, sir, about something which I neffer told to anybody. My mother knows, but no one else. Will you bromise, blease, to keeb it secret, what I'm goin' to tell you?"

"Yes, rather! Fire away," said the Emir.

"Well, sir, I know of a blace where gold is found more blenty than the oranges in that garden we now come from."

"You don't? You're joking!" The Emir stared at him.

"I do, sir. You know, there's lots of country neffer been exblored away there to the south and east, behind the Jordan. No one effer goes there. My father went there once—he was a muleteer and traffeled all about in those days—and in the desert, far away from any houses, he found a blace where bits of gold were lyin' on the ground quite thick like bebbles in a mountain wady."

"But your father was not rich," the Frank objected.

"No, sir; and just because he was not rich, he could not go again and fetch the gold. It wants horses and camels, and many men and arms to make afraid the Bedouins. My father saw that blace with his own eyes, and before he died he wrote a baber teach me how to get there. He told me he got a big biece of gold, enough to make him rich, but had to drob it after a bit, it was so heffy."

"How far is the place from here?"

"Nine days or ten, I think. When I get home I look in the baber which my father left and see for certain."

"But perhaps your father was mistaken, and the stuff he found was not gold at all."

"That might be." Iskender grasped his chin reflectively, admitting that he had not thought of that contingency. "But father was a knowing man," he added; "he looked close at things. Though he was only a boor common man, he had traffeled a great deal, and I think he'd know gold when he saw it."

"I must say I should like to go and see," exclaimed the Emir, now warming to the subject.

"You'd better not, sir, till you make sure of brotection. The desert beeble don't like strangers hangin' round. And the Guffernment would stob you, if they got to know. I thought I'd tell you, sir, because you're kindest friend I effer had. Then by-and-by you get some friends to join you, and go with a strong barty; and then, when you've got much gold, you think: Iskender made me a nice bresent. I hobe you think so. I know I am only a boor common man, like dirt to you. But I luff you truly, sir, and wish to gif you something."

"Don't talk such rubbish," said the Emir impatiently. "Of course we should share alike, and go together, if at all. By Jove, it would be fun!" and he began to shadow forth the expedition, Iskender helping him with tempting details. To Iskender the vision of riding for days together alone with his beloved seemed all glorious. Sitting there beside the Muslim tomb, with the Emir talking to him like a brother in the excitement of their common dream, he lost the thought of time, and was surprised to see the fires of evening in the sky, and the shadows of the two tall cypress-trees extending right across the sandy road.

"We must find out more about that place," said the Emir with a great yawn as he rose and stretched himself. "We must make inquiries. Other people must at least have heard of it.

"Oh, sir, I beg you not!" the son of Yacub cried in sudden terror. "You bromised faithfully to keeb my secret!"

"Of course, you stupid!" came the laughing assurance. "We can make inquiries without telling any one."

At the door of the hotel they found Elias waiting. He stood forth and greeted the Emir quite unabashed, convulsed with laughter at the latter's cold amazement.

"You thinkin' of that business in the garden? Neffer fear, sir! That was all a dam' bad joke of that briest-fellow, Mitri—I'll be efen with him yet, by Jingo!—all to pay me out because I neffer gif him nothing when he bless my house. He is a funny man, sir—that briest is! He makes me laugh fit to sblit with his awful silly jokes."

Yet while thus joyously ascribing his late discomfiture to the Orthodox priest, his manner towards Iskender showed new deference, clearly indicating that he saw the young man's hand in the business, and recognised his master in guile. Iskender was greatly shocked when his Emir allowed that proven rogue to enter with them. What was his horror when, arrived in the bedroom, his Highness lightly asked Elias if he had ever heard of a place in the interior where gold lay on the surface of the ground.

His lord shot a glance at Iskender to reassure him on the score of secrecy. But the poor youth gnashed his teeth and clenched his hands. He saw his credit hanging on a thread, his new-found favour on the point of leaving him, Elias avenged, triumphant. The dragoman had travelled far and wide; he was sure to ridicule the tale, and prove convincingly that no such place existed. He could hardly suppress a cry when Elias, instead of laughing, pulled a grave face and solemnly affirmed:

"I know it well."

"Have you been there?" inquired the Emir, himself astonished. "I heard of it to-day by chance, and am curious to know the whole story of it."

"Not I myself. But I know one man what went there. He left this bart of the country, though; may be dead, by Jofe, for what I know!"

Interrogated further, Elias declared that the name of the place was well known. It was Wady 'l Muluk, the Valley of the Kings; though why he could not say, unless it were because the kings of old, who were certainly richer than kings are nowadays, derived their gold from thence. Many persons had, at divers times, set out to find that place; but few had reached it, for the reason that no one knew the road exactly, and the desert tribes were fond of killing travellers.

"Don't you make no mistake!" he concluded. "The Wady 'l Muluk, he's there all right, only a job to find him. If you want to hear about him, I tell you what, dear sir, I ask some beebles."

"I should be obliged if you would," said the Frank.

Iskender was still in the stupefied state of one who wakes to find his dream made real. After such evidence from Elias, an unprepared, impartial person, there was no longer any room for doubt but that the gold of his vision actually existed. He felt a trifle jealous of the witness for knowing more about it than he did himself. A servant summoning the Emir to dinner, he went out into the twilight with Elias, who still treated him with the gravest deference. As they walked away together, the dragoman still talking of the wonders of the place of gold, Iskender could not help informing him that he had certain knowledge of the whereabouts of that valley, away in the eastern wilderness, beyond the Jordan.

"Thou sayest? Now may Allah bless thee!" muttered Elias, with immediate reverence. "Allah witness how I always loved thee. I understand now why his Honour questioned me with so much mystery. You are going there together. The Emir will furnish forth the expedition and become thy partner. Allah witness how I always loved thee. Bitterly do I repent my conduct towards thee of the last few days, and Allah knows thou hast had ample vengeance. Thou art too strong for me. Henceforth I am thy friend and loving servant. Take me also, I beseech thee, O my soul. I can be useful to thee from my wide experience in travel; and of the spoil I would claim no more than an alms or gleaning. Fear not that I shall breathe a word to any man. Elias is renowned for his discretion. Say yes, O beloved! For the love of Allah, let me go with you."

Iskender said yes, though with mental reservations. The concession set Elias upon heights of glory. He kissed Iskender on both cheeks at parting, and swore by Allah that the love he felt for him transcended that which he bore his own father and mother.



CHAPTER XIII

Iskender followed the sandy road through the gardens. It was dark, and the forms of one or two men who passed him made him tremble, they sprang so suddenly out of the gloom, noiseless, their footfalls deadened by the soft sand. The events of the day had left on him a strong impression of the supernatural, and now he felt that witchcraft was abroad, expected each minute that some evil claw would pounce on him out of the gloom. The very stars of heaven looked uncanny. Cold sweat came out upon his forehead; his legs dragged weakly though he longed to run. Two palm-trees standing out against the sky told him he was approaching the abode of Mitri; the church, the hovels, even the ilex-tree, were swallowed up in the dark cloud of the gardens which rolled mysterious on every side. Presently he saw a light among the dwellings. It occurred to him to call at the priest's house, and render thanks for his intervention in the matter of Elias. He longed to speak to some one, any one, for rescue from the grinning terror of the night.

He knocked at the door with loud blessings. It was opened, with a sudden gush of light. The priest peered out into the gloom.

"Is it thou, O my son?" he cried, recognising at length the voice that praised his kindness. "No, Allah be my witness, I will accept nothing from thee—neither thanks nor anything else, save thy conversion. Hast come to seek instruction in accordance with thy promise? Alas! I cannot bid thee enter, for my wife and children are abed; the hour is late. What ails thee that thou tremblest? Art afraid of the powers of darkness, poor Brutestant without a saint to guard thee? Wait, I will take my staff and bear thee company.

"By Allah, thou hast every cause to fear," he continued, stepping forth beside Iskender. "Thy errors give the devils power to harm thee. The Franks are not afraid; for in each one of them there sits a devil far more powerful than those outside. But thou, poor innocent dupe, are left defenceless. Surely the falsehood of their teaching must be evident to a youth of thy intelligence?"

"Nay, O my father, though my soul abhors them, I still discern much good in their beliefs." Iskender, freed from fear, could argue lightly. That morning, when he gave his word to Mitri, he had felt alone and helpless. Now, in repossession of his Emir, with boundless wealth in prospect, the question of his change of faith seemed unimportant. That the Orthodox creed was the way of salvation, he had no doubt; his mother had always said so; but there seemed plenty of time in which to save his soul. He added: "How can their faith be false, seeing it is founded on the Holy Scriptures?"

"They quote the Scriptures, it is true," retorted Mitri, "but without rule or guidance, each in the pride of his own understanding—the devils do the same!—so that no two Brutestants believe alike. They reject all those sacred traditions which lead back to Christ. Their only union is in hatred of the Church. They exist for themselves alone, to the hurt of others, just like stinging insects. And Allah alone knows why they were ever created, unless it be as a kind of hornet to molest the faithful. Consider, O my dear, how transient this life is; its prosperity departs with the breath. Think on the anguish of those who, attracted by the wealth and luxury of these missionaries, forsake the truth of God, when they stand before His Throne of Judgment at the Last Day!"

Iskender listened, but was unimpressed. His mind had wandered back to the events of the day; and at that moment Wady 'l Muluk was more apparent to his mind than the Last Judgment. He murmured:

"I will ponder what thou sayest."

"Again bethink thee, thou who hast the gift of making likenesses and colouring them so that they resemble living things, what fame awaits thee as a maker of sacred pictures for our churches and our dwellings!"

"True, I must think of that," replied Iskender. He meant, in case he failed by any chance to find the valley full of gold, whose wealth would raise him to the social rank of his Emir.

"Well, go in peace, my son; may Allah guide thee!"

With the blessing Mitti [Transcriber's note: Mitri?] kissed Iskender on the brow, and pressed his hand. They were then quite near the little house upon the sandhill; could see light streaming from its open door and, silhouetted on the light, Iskender's mother looking out for him.

"Mercy on us!" she exclaimed, when her son came bounding through a gap of the cactus hedge. "Praise be to Allah thou art still alive and well! I have kept a bowl of lentils hot for thee, which is more than thy deserts, O shameless one! O my despair, ever to have borne such a son! When—when wilt thou learn discretion? Why didst thou express a hope that thy Emir would foul the beard of the Father of Ice, and that in the hearing of the son of Costantin? Here have the ladies been again to-day, railing against thee as the worst of malefactors. By Allah, I can keep thee here no longer. Yet whither canst thou go, unhappy boy, for now I learn that thou hast angered thy Emir? Thy uncle, the respectable Abdullah, has been here in great trouble for thee. He has this day returned from Beyrut, that great, splendid city, and I thought that he had come to tell me of its progress and high fashion. But no, it was for thee he came. In the town, on landing he had heard the tidings of thy downfall. Why hast thou hid the truth from me these many days? I could have fallen lifeless when I heard him say that thou art nothing, that Elias is the friend of thy Emir. Whence came that money thou didst show me? Was it stolen? Tell me, O unfortunate! I am thy loving mother, and shall not condemn thee."

Iskender laughed at her concern.

"It is true," he said, "that my Emir did for a time prefer Elias. But now, praise to Allah, all is well again!" And he proceeded to relate what had happened that morning in the orange-garden.

"May Allah reward our father Mitri!" his mother exclaimed. "But I would not have thee go too far in friendship with him, on account of the missionaries, who may yet forgive thee. To-day when I condemned thy conduct fiercely, their hearts, I could see, were touched with pity for thee. Now if I drive thee forth, and vow never more to look on thee, there is a chance they will forgive thee quite. It is certain that they do not love Asad as they loved thee. By Allah, I should like to see my son a mighty clergyman. Then I would wear fine Frankish hats in their despite; and thou couldst wed the Sitt Hilda, though she is old for thee. To-morrow, therefore, seek some new abode. . . . Allah cut short thy life! Thy wits are wandering. Is the matter of my speech so light, O misbegotten?"

Iskender, who was half-way through the mess of lentils, protested with his mouth full that he had heard and would obey. But his tone was so indifferent as to increase his parent's wrath. To one deep in thought of the valley of gold, her words seemed trash. She stormed unceasingly till they had both lain down to rest and the night-light was burning fitfully on the ground between them. Then at last came peace; she snored aloud; while Iskender thought of the valley full of gold, whose true existence had been miraculously revealed to him, and then of the career as a church painter offered to him by the priest Mitri. Anything was better than to be the fatted slave of the missionaries, who, he felt sure, hated him. His desire was to be loved.

In the morning early he returned to the house of Mitri. As he reached it a noise of chanting in the little church informed him that the priest was at his duties; so he squatted down in the shade of the ever-green oak, and waited till the service should be ended. Presently a group of brown-legged boys came tumbling out, smiting one another and shouting the minute they had passed the threshold. A few girls followed, all discreetly veiled, in one of whom he recognised Nesibeh; and then some older people, turbaned men and white-veiled women, among them one blind sheykh with hands outstretched; and finally, after an interval, the priest himself. Iskender sprang to him, and kissed his hand.

"I seek a boon of thee, O lord of kindness!"

"In the name of Allah!" Mitri seized the suppliant's hands and pressed them to his heart. "Say on; I listen."

Iskender told him how the hatred of the missionaries had reached such a pitch that his mother was obliged to cast him out. He had come to the priest, his best friend, for advice in this dilemma, thinking that he might recommend him to a lodging.

"Now may Allah house thee!" said Mitri with a thoughtful frown. "Allah knows thy mother does great wrong thus to cast thee abroad, a young unmarried man; unless she wishes to debauch thee utterly. For who but the worst of characters would take thee in, to share the intimacy of their wives and daughters, except it might be as a traveller, and for a single night? Wallah, I am at a loss how to advise thee. There is not at present among us an old childless couple, nor yet a bachelor, whose dwelling thou couldst share. By the Holy Gospel, I see no resort for thee except a khan. . . . I have it!"—his perplexity was lightened suddenly, and he raised his eyes, till then downcast. "Thou shalt lodge at the hotel of Musa el Barudi, where thy patron dwells. Musa is of my congregation, and he loves me well; while, as for Selim and Daud, his two sons, I taught them their duties and chastised their youthful conduct. Wait here, and I will write a word to them, how thou art tired of the vain beliefs of the Brutestants, and wouldst tread the path of Salvation."

"Write all that pleases thee, our father!"

Iskender waited to receive the missive; and then, with blessings on the priest and all belonging to him, sped with it to the hotel. To be near his sweet Emir both night and day fulfilled his dearest wish.

The sons of Musa had not yet risen when he entered the hall; and the black doorkeeper, accustomed to see him come in every day without leave or question, betrayed astonishment when asked to bear a letter to them.

"To which of the twain?" he asked, with a dubious grin.

"By Allah, that I care not; for see, by the superscription, the message is to both alike."

"I will show it to the Khawajah Selim," the negro muttered, and went off, holding the paper wrapped in his white robe.

He returned almost immediately, on his heels Selim the son of Musa, who cried gladly:

"Thou art welcome and thrice welcome, O my dear! The praise to Allah, and good luck to thee! Our father Mitri must be mad with joy; for thou art the first that ever came from them to him, while they have stolen many from his flock, though not of late. The Holy Orthodox Church invites no proselyte, so the more credit to the man who comes to her. She resembles some old-fashioned, quiet merchant, too dignified to compete with Frankish cheapjacks. Our house is thy house; dwell here as long as is convenient to thee, and may Allah preserve thee always."

Iskender murmured his thanks, standing reverently, with hands folded away and eyes downcast. Then, when Selim had gone back to his dressing, he crossed his legs upon the pavement of the hall and mused on his good fortune, praising Allah.

Elias came into the hall and greeted him.

"I have news for thee," he whispered; and Iskender, remembering the Valley of the Kings, gave eager ear; but just then Selim, the son of Musa, called from an inner room:

"Iskender is a convert, O Elias. He returns to the bosom of the Church. The praise to Allah!"

"Is it true?" cried Elias, starting back and staring at the youth. Perceiving no denial, he embraced him fondly, crying: "Our Lord bless thee! Allah knows I always loved the soul of thee, though the Brutestant stank in my nose; now from this day forth I am thy brother. By the Most High, thou shalt lodge nowhere but in my house."

"May Allah reward thy hospitality, O Elias," cried again the son of Musa. "The honour thou wouldst have is mine already."

"A pity!" sighed Elias, seeming really disappointed.

But the next minute, hearing steps upon the stairs, he brightened up, and said in Iskender's ear:

"The Emir descends! Ah, I assure thee by the Holy Gospel, I have news for both of you."

The Frank stayed only long enough for salutations, then passed again from sight, going to breakfast. But though they were long alone, without a listener, Elias refused to impart the matter of his news, bidding Iskender wait till the Emir gave audience.

"Ah, I assure thee, news of price!" he repeated, hugging himself, with big round eyes of mystery.



CHAPTER XIV

The news, when Elias did at last reveal it, was simply another of his wondrous stories. The Frank, however, listened to it with some interest as the three walked out together.

In the watches of the night Elias had remembered how years ago a muleteer, by name Mansur, had brought a piece of gold to show him secretly. This man had been upon a journey to the Wady Musa with some English gentlemen of the kind who seek adventure in wild places. Out in the desert, far away from any house, he had the misfortune to be separated from his company, and wandered alone for three days in vain attempts to rejoin them. At dusk one evening he found himself in a wild ravine, its cliff-walls honeycombed with caves, in one of which he chose to pass the night. No sooner had he lain down than he imagined that he heard unearthly music; but by dint of repeating the name of Allah the trouble left him, and he went to sleep.

In the middle of the night he woke with a start, to find the cavern lighted up, and full of people talking angrily. By their pointed ears, domed heads, and slanting eyes he knew them for the dwellers underground. Fear paralysed and kept him silent; which was lucky, for he learnt presently that their wrath concerned him. They were there, it seemed, to guard a treasure-ground against intruders; and were debating in what manner they should kill him, when Mansur, who was a Christian, lifted up his voice and cried:

"In the name of Allah, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit!" They vanished instantly with horrid yells.

In the morning, when Mansur arose and went to the cave-mouth, he saw that the bottom of the ravine was strewn with lumps of gold. In delight he ran and gathered of the stuff as much as his bags would hold, and then set forth. But he had forgotten to give thanks to Allah for the burden; and in consequence of the omission it was not made light to him. For relief he was forced to thrust a hand into his placket, to pull out lump after lump and drop it on the road, till there remained but one piece, small as compared with the rest, but still enough to make his fortune in the world of common men.

Allah blessed his journey, and he reached his home at last. There, after a consultation with his wife, he resolved to submit the nugget to some man renowned for probity and wisdom. He brought it, therefore, to Elias, who believed it to be gold, but, loth to trust his judgment, advised Mansur to show it to a certain jeweller of high repute, as well for virtue as for craftsmanship; and Mansur did so. The jeweller asked Mansur to leave it with him for a day or two, that he might apply certain tests, and when asked for a receipt, appeared so hurt, called so loudly upon Allah and the neighbourhood to attest his honesty, and in all respects bore himself so nobly, that Mansur retired convinced that he had left his treasure in clean hands.

But when he returned after two days, that jeweller informed him that it was not gold. Mansur then asked for it to be returned, saying that if it were only brass it would be worth preserving. The merchant replied that he had thrown it away, and told the muleteer to go and hunt for it upon the rubbish-heaps outside the city gate. Mansur then called him thief. The jeweller cried "Ya Muslimin!" and roused the neighbours, who fell upon Mansur, and beat him soundly, leaving him for dead. But before he lost consciousness he heard the jeweller exhorting the multitude not to spare him, for that he had stolen a lump of fine gold from the Sultan's treasury.

"What you think of that?" said Elias, when he had made an end.

"A truly wonderful story," rejoined the Emir.

Their walk had ended on the sea-beach, where they now, all three, lay stretched upon the sand. The Emir, with his straw hat tipped over his eyes, threw a stone from time to time into the azure ripples, as dark in contrast with their foam as ink on paper. There was a moment's silence. Iskender whispered in his lord's ear:

"It is all a lie. He made it up last night."

"There may be some truth in it; you never know!" replied the Emir in the same tone. He added aloud for Elias, who was staring fixedly out on the sea, still entranced by the vision he had just related:

"If the place is guarded by nothing more terrible than your genis, I should like to go there."

"Ha, ha!" laughed Elias. "That's all tommy-rot about the jinnis." Nevertheless he glanced around in haste, and muttered an exorcist formula beneath his breath. "The Bedouins they're more real to be afraid of. But neffer say die; you square them easy with a few dollars. Iskender, he know the way there, so all serene!"

"I told Elias all about it, sir, last night," said Iskender sheepishly, in reply to a glance of surprise.

"Yes, sir, he tell me, and I'm goin' to helb you all I can. Trust Elias, sir, he knows his way about!"

"Well," said the Emir after a little meditation, "I feel inclined for the adventure, provided always that it doesn't cost too much."

"We soon see what that's a-going to cost."

In a trice Elias whipped out from his breast a greasy pocket-book, stuffed with testimonials from travellers, which, by the violence of their owner's haste to begin calculations, were scattered on the sand. As there was no wind, Elias let them lie there for the present, and holding the pocket-book close to his nose, fell to dotting down Arabic numerals on the tablet allotted to memoranda.

Iskender glared at him. The wretch who yesterday had been crushed and all-submissive, to-day aspired to take command of an expedition the very idea of which was all Iskender's.

"This was gif me by one American gentleman," Elias remarked of the pocket-book. "Well, come along then! You take camels or mules? Camels hold the most, but mules much nicer. We say fifty mules. Then you want a cook, and a waiter, and 'bout ten muleteers, and five—six big tents. I think you do it easy, grub an' all, sir, for 'bout five hundred bound."

"Good Lord!" ejaculated the Emir.

"Well, I do it for less, much less, but you be uncomfortable."

Iskender, then awaking from his trance of horror, grasped the dragoman's arm and shook it angrily.

"What do we want with fifty mules, O ass?" he asked in Arabic. "One mule would carry enough to make us all as rich as Musa el Barudi."

"By Allah, thou art an ass thyself! Is it not well to bring away the most we can," returned the visionary, sore dismayed; when, seeing how their talk apart made the Frank suspicious, he relapsed into English with a genial smile:

"Yes, fifty too dam' many; we take ten. A friend of mine got three nice tents—a bit old, but neffer mind! He let you haf 'em cheab, because he luf me. Then three horses for you and me and 'Skender. How far you say it is?" He turned to Iskender. "You know the way."

"About nine days from here, accordin' to the baber which my father wrote. My mother kebt it to this day."

"Well, sir, I think you get there under one hundred bound, and once you got the gold you not care a dam' what it coss comin' back."

"No," said the Frank firmly. "I want to know the expenses there and back, and I can't afford more than fifty pounds for the whole expedition."

At this unlooked-for ultimatum Elias opened his eyes very wide and sucked his pencil, staring ruefully at his scattered testimonials. He declared it to be "no go."

But Iskender, seeing the opportunity for self-assertion, stood by the Frank, undertaking recklessly to arrange the whole expedition, on a smaller scale, for the sum stipulated.

Elias shrugged to the ears.

"Be careful to keep this secret," he said sullenly in Arabic. "By Allah, if the others, who dislike thee already, get to know of it, they will go mad with rage and probably take thy life. Abdullah, thy uncle, himself would wish to slay thee. For a missionary or a resident in the country, and out of season, it might pass. But this is a lord of wealth, a prince, the best sort of traveller!"

"Canst thou not perceive, O my dear, that the desire of his Honour is for rough adventure, and not luxury? And verily, to travel in the style of thy proposal would simply be to invite every bravo of the wilds to come and rob us."

This Iskender uttered in a tone of high impatience, and he was pleased to observe, out of the corners of his eyes, that his patron approved of that tone being used towards one who had designed to overcharge him.

"Well, Allah reward thee; for thou canst make no profit on it, that is certain," said Elias with another shrug, and after that kept silence for some minutes, resigning all part in the discussion. But soon, as that discussion grew more animated, and the vision of the sea of gold came dazzlingly before his eyes, he forgot his dudgeon and chimed in once more, thus tacitly accepting the leadership of Iskender, who was satisfied.

"When shall we start?" asked the Emir at last.

"Wheneffer you blease, dear sir," replied Iskender.

But Elias thought profoundly, visibly, with finger laid to brow.

"I think you better wait a bit, Iskender," he said presently. "I tell you why. Just now there's no trafellers comin' to the country, so the dragomans just stand around and jolly well watch all what you do. We go now, it make a talk. Wait a month or two, in the name o' Moses, then there's lots o' trafellers; they think about makin' money, and go hang! I shan't want no trafellers this year. No jolly fear, by George! I stick to you. Like that they think you got a brober dragoman and all serene!"

This was sound advice, and, as it was proffered with the right humility, Iskender commended it to his beloved.



CHAPTER XV

On the day following that council on the sea-beach, something happened which pushed the Valley of the Kings into the background for a time. This was the arrival from the land of the English of a fine new paint-box, which the Emir presented to his henchman with most gracious words. With this beside him and his sketch-book on his knees Iskender heard the talk around him with but half an ear, and, when referred to answered without thinking, thus assenting to propositions and accepting responsibilities the onus of which dismayed him when he came to realise it. For instance Elias earnestly desired to know if Iskender could have included the services of a first-rate cook in his estimate for the expedition. The best of cooks, he vowed, was necessary for the honour and contentment of their dearest lord. How was it to be done?

Iskender with eyes intent upon a spot of colour newly laid, with brush in air, replied:

"Have no fear, O beloved. I shall find a man; and, if not, I myself will do the cooking."

"But canst thou?"

"By Allah, I am a known professor of the art." And again when Elias spoke of other services certain to be required upon the journey, Iskender undertook, in default of trained servants, himself to make the bed and wait upon the Frank at table.

The Emir was greatly pleased by this alacrity of the absorbed artist; seeing which, Elias cried:

"No, no, by God, you can't do all the work, I help you, 'Skender. Let me wait at table."

Iskender saw Elias waiting on their lord alone, breathing his pleasure in the great man's ear! Yet he assented gratefully. Elias was not to go with them at all, he had firmly resolved; but there was no need to tell him so just now, in this time of preparation when his experience was sure to be useful. In Iskender's mind the Valley of the Kings was little more than a romantic pretext for a ride alone with his Emir. But Elias thought of nothing but the gold. His eyes seemed to have grown larger in these days, and were fixed wide open to contain the vision. He treated Iskender with a kind of worship as the repository of that precious secret, showed great care for his health, and was in all things his loyal helper. But the young man did not trust him. He kept the details of the expedition to himself as organiser; and, though Elias pestered him with questions concerning the whereabouts of that desirable valley, he would reveal nothing. By dint of thus withholding information, he himself acquired the firm conviction that there was really information to withhold.

It was not till more than a week after the coming of the famous paint-box that Iskender found time to go again to the house of Mitri. Repairing thither in the glow of a fine evening, following a rainy day, he was surprised, as he drew near the place, to see his mother talking with Mitri in the doorway. She was wrapped from head to foot in a great shawl, and seemed in some trepidation, casting frequent glances up and down the road. In so doing she caught sight of Iskender, and raised hands to heaven. She ran to meet him.

"What is this?" she cried. "Day after day have I been here to seek thee, because the whole world says that thou hast joined the Orthodox, and my heart yearned towards thee; but I dared not go openly to the hotel where thou art known to lodge, having sworn to the missionaries that I would never see thee more. Here, too, I am in terror of my life, for if it were known that I held intercourse with Mitri, they would cast me off. Well, thou hast no more hope from them, thanks to thy rashness. Why couldst thou not shun the priest here, as I told thee to? Now, with all the Orthodox boasting of thy conversion, thou art more than ever accursed in their sight. Even at me they look askance, I fancy, as if I had a finger in the mess. Come indoors where we can talk privately. The worthy priest will let me enter with thee. What made thee go and change thy faith just now?"

"I have not yet changed it, O my mother. I do but hear the reasoning of our father Mitri."

"Well, that is something. I will tell them that." She held her tongue suddenly, finding herself within the hearing of Mitri, who, however, took no notice of her, but welcomed Iskender fatherly and bade him enter. She entered with them unrebuked, and sat by while they argued, feasting her eyes upon her son's good looks. The girl Nesibeh came occasionally to the door of the inner room, and exchanged mischievous glances with Iskender, who was on the watch for her. His mother's eyes were quick to notice this, and, leaning to his ear, she whispered:

"Cunning devil! Thy plan is not amiss, for she is comely, and her father stands well with the highest in the land. Thou wilt mix with the Barudis and the rich Aziz."

Iskender shook her hand from off his arm, and brushed her words away as stinging insects, in terror lest the priest should overhear. The priest rebuked her for the interruption. But she continued unabashed, and sat on smiling to herself, and nodding at Iskender when she caught his eye.

After that Iskender went to the priest's house every evening, and his mother often stole so far to meet him, hurrying, chin on shoulder, in evident terror of pursuit by the missionaries. She endured all Mitri's reprobations with a shrug, content so long as he allowed her to embrace her boy.

"Poor people must eat bread. Our Blessed Lord knows that and will make allowance for me," was her reply to the accusation of hypocrisy. But she now seconded Mitri's designs upon Iskender, gratified by the notion of an alliance with the priest's family. "It is different with him," she admitted, "since they have cast him out. Let Iskender follow the guidance of the Spirit. Doubtless the congregation will take care of his future, for he has forfeited a great career for conscience' sake."

Iskender, however, still held back, from no conscientious reluctance, but merely to prolong a hesitation which he found delicious as giving him value in the eyes of the girl Nesibeh. Her delight when any of his objections went down before her father's reasoning and the triumphant private glance she shot at him made a joy not lightly to be forgone. When all his veritable doubts had been demolished, he invented others to prolong this happiness. He cherished definite hopes, dream-like as was the nature of his mental process, of obtaining her for his own, when he returned full of treasure from Wady 'l Muluk. The big priest, it was clear, had conceived a liking for him, and had come to count on his visits of an evening, loving an argument; her mother always blessed him when he came and went, and baked choice sweetmeats for his delectation.

It was not long before Iskender received evidence that the question of his change of faith possessed a lively interest for others besides the priest Mitri and his lovely daughter. One day, returning from a walk with the Emir, he heard that the missionary had been inquiring for him in his absence; and the following evening, on the road to Mitri's house, he was overtaken by the Father of Ice in person, who got down off his horse and addressed him very kindly.

Why did Iskender never come to church nowadays? why had he not been to visit the ladies? why had he refused their offer of employment in the house, which would probably have led to better things, perhaps to his appointment as assistant master in one of the Mission schools? Even now it was not too late to reconsider; they, on their side, were quite willing to forget bygones. It had grieved them much to hear that Iskender was drifting into bad company, and entering on a vicious course of life; still more to learn that he showed an inclination to forget the enlightened religious teaching which he had received in childhood.

His words moved Iskender more than he desired to show, arousing in his mind a thousand happy memories, reproachful now. He replied in Arabic with the sullenness that masks emotion:

"I am a son of the Arabs, and I return to my own kind. Allah knows I am nothing to be considered."

"What do you mean?" asked the missionary in a colder tone.

"Your Honour and the ladies could not make of me an Englishman. It is for that you cast me off."

"We tried to make of you a Christian man." The missionary's face grew stern, and his ice-green eyes gave forth a sword-flash. "Well, go your way; God grant it lead not to perdition!" He nodded his head in the direction of the two palm-trees which marked in the dusk the whereabouts of Mitri's house.

Iskender, glancing in the same direction, discerned the tall black figure of the father of Nesibeh in the road, looking out for him. The idea of evil in connection with the jolly priest suddenly struck him as perverse and ludicrous. He laughed in the face of the missionary.

"My friends are no worse than your friends. And which of us will be lost, which saved, will not be known until the last judgment. May Our Lord forgive your Honour for such bad thoughts."

In a white rage, the Father of Ice remounted his horse and rode away, disregarding the ironical salute of Mitri, who stood out before his door, awaiting the arrival of his catechumen.

"What didst thou say to the hog to make him snort like that?" was the priest's first question of Iskender; and, when the youth informed him, "By Allah, it was a true word," he chuckled heartily. "They think all men should be on one pattern—the pattern of their wondrous selves, whom they esteem perfection. They suppose that what is good for their race must be good for all the others, thus ignoring the providence of Allah, Who made the peoples of the earth to differ in appearance, speech, and manners. They know nothing of our beliefs and ways of thought, so call them wicked, since they are not theirs. They condemn men freely, sitting in the seat of judgment, unaware that they themselves will be judged at the last day. By Allah, there is only one of all that breed whom one can talk to as a human being—I mean the little preacher Ward, who runs their errands. He has not been here for three months or more. From much travelling among the villages, he knows the customs of our people and respects them. Moreover, he is modest, while the rest are arrogant. . . . But, merciful Allah, what is this I see? What ails thee, madwoman?"

The mother of Iskender, stealing forth from the priest's house, had cast herself upon her son, with fearful moans:

"O Holy Virgin! O my terror! Please God, he did not see me where I stood in the doorway! Some one has informed him where I go—it must be Costantin, the spy and liar—and now he rides at dusk to try and catch me. I shall not come here again; it is too dangerous. Come thou to the house sometimes quite late at night. Farewell, O beloved, and may Allah keep thee!"

"Allah is greatest!" ejaculated Mitri, with a shrug and a gruff laugh, as he watched her flight along the twilight road. "Now let us enter and dispute together."

But the shock of his encounter with the missionary had left Iskender with no wits for argument. He took leave earlier than usual; and, as he walked back to the hotel in the dark, he realised that the last vestige of his Protestantism had that evening been demolished. His baptism would follow as a matter of course, in the mind of Mitri; and he was by no means prepared to receive it, since the priest, for the triumph of his congregation, was certain to demand a public ceremony, and Iskender feared the scorn of his Emir, whom he imagined to be something of a sceptic.

Moreover, it would entail a full confession of his inmost thoughts, which, with Wady 'l Muluk in mind, he could not face; and at least it ought to be postponed till after the great Fast, which the Orthodox observe with cruel rigour.

To stave off the ordeal he saw himself forced to invent a new set of doubts and objections. On his next visit to the house of Mitri, he owned himself convinced of the vanity of the Protestant faith, but hinted at an inclination towards the Catholic. The big priest stared at him with mouth agape.

"Curse thy father!" he exclaimed. "Wouldst thou turn from bad to worse, and rush straight to Jehennum. Thou hast studied history, so knowest that the Latins are our ancient enemies. They slew us with the Muslims when their armies took by storm the Holy Places, and enslaved the remnant of us in a cruel slavery. They have statues, rank idols, in their churches; and is it not the worst idolatry to concentrate the power which belongs of right to the whole Body of Christ, and adore it in the person of one living man? Their lips have corrupted the creed: they have no baptism, so can have no orders. Their Pope of Rome himself is nothing but an unbaptized layman. Speak of that again, and I will drive thee from my house with beatings!"

Iskender, greatly alarmed, made haste to explain that he had spoken in jest. He had caught an angry look from the girl Nesibeh.

"Jest not upon what concerns thy soul's salvation," said the priest, letting his wrath evaporate. "Thou knowest not what harm those Latins do us, tempting souls astray. They allow proselytes to retain our beliefs, our language, and our form of service, so only that they acknowledge the supremacy of the hound of Rome, which means perdition, truly, in the next world, but foreign protection in this. It is little wonder that they have seduced many. . . . What hinders thee from receiving at my hands the inestimable boon of baptism?"

Iskender murmured that he still had doubts. The angry glances of the girl Nesibeh made him shame-faced.

"Show me thy doubts that I may straight resolve them."

Iskender was muttering that he must think them out, that they were not yet quite clear in his mind, when Nesibeh cried from the inner room:

"Hear him not, O my father! The low dog is mocking thee. Force him to be baptized, or drive him forth!"

"Silence, shameless one!" the priest cried sternly; nevertheless he took her suggestion and, turning to Iskender, whose brow was throbbing painfully, inquired: "Hast thou one good reason to desire delay?"

"Yes, O our father!" Iskender blurted out the truth at last. "I know not how my patron would regard it. On him I depend entirely for the present. I have heard him scoff at all who change the faith that they were born in. Wait a little, I beseech thee, until he is gone!"

"Is that in truth all?" replied Mitri, fully satisfied. "The right is with thee. We must wait awhile. But Allah grant thou die not in the interval."



CHAPTER XVI

The season recommended by Elias as most favourable for their adventure now drew near. Each steamer that touched at the port disgorged a little crowd of travellers. The Emir being no longer alone in the hotel, his radiance suffered eclipse. Other Franks of distinction came and went continually; dragomans, splendidly attired, hung about the entrance, tugging at their moustachios, tapping their riding-boots with silver-mounted whips, and spitting superbly, as became men whose special province it was to order the lords of gold about like dogs. Merchants and pedlars, as many as could get permission from the sons of Musa, spread out their wares on the floor of the hall, and smiled allurement on the visitors. The servants of Cook and other Powers of Europe and America strutted about and gave command like princes.

Iskender, for his footing in the house, helped the servants wherever an extra hand was required, and in that way learnt to wait at table, to polish boots and brush clothes, and acquired some inkling of the art of cooking. The positive need of these attainments for the coming journey made him quick to learn. The Emir himself admired his general usefulness, and the sons of Musa paid him money for his services. As a result of all this bustle there were fewer visits to the house of Mitri, while the book and paint-box were perforce laid by.

The excitement of Elias grew with every day. He never tired of asking whether all was ready, of reminding Iskender of the need of this or that small comfort, and urging him to fix a date for their departure. Indeed his eagerness became a visible disorder, and, seeing him mingle freely with the other dragomans, Iskender went in hourly fear of indiscretions. One noon when, after a spell of work in the hot kitchen, he had rushed to the outer door to breath the air, he fell upon a group of persons splendidly arrayed, who welcomed his appearance with unfriendly glee. Yuhanna Mahbub, the bully, seized his arm, and threatened him with his whip not altogether playfully.

"Confess the truth!" he commanded, with his cruel grin. "Thy journey with the Emir is not for pastime. Thou hast a secret; it is useless to deny it, for we know the fact from thy partner Elias. I, with others of thy friends, resent this great preferment of Elias. Reveal thy secret now immediately, and if it is of worth, I too will go with thee."

"What words are these?" Iskender cried out in extreme amazement. "A secret! I possess a secret! It is some lying fable of that mad Elias!"

"That, Allah knows, is possible," put in a bystander. "Elias is the very prince of fable-mongers."

Yuhanna still kept grinning in Iskender's face.

"Wilt thou swear by the Blessed Sacrament that thou knowest nothing of the whereabouts of any treasure?"

"Art mad? How should I know of any treasure?"

"Swear by the Blessed Sacrament! Nought else will serve; and if hereafter it should prove that thou art perjured, I will beat thy filthy soul from out thy body."

"By the Blessed Sacrament I swear!" replied Iskender.

"That is well!" Yuhanna curled his long moustachios. "Then why does Elias refuse every other engagement? It is not likely thy Emir will pay him much."

"By the same pledge I know not! Ask the man himself!"

"Thou seest, 'Hanna, as I told thee, it is all a lie," laughed a bystander, the same who had before spoken.

Iskender escaped from them, bearing the conscience of a perjured wretch. He called Allah Most High to witness how the sin was forced on him. It was some comfort to reflect that he was still technically a Protestant, so might be taken to have sworn by the sacrament of that sect which he knew to be without Divine significance. But all the same his crime was very heinous.

Early in the morning following this grave event, Iskender was engaged in sweeping out the entrance-hall, when his uncle strode in out of the sunlight, of which he seemed an offshoot in his splendour of apparel. More respectable than ever through pride in the command of a company of high-born English bent on sight-seeing, he addressed his nephew from the height of condescension:

"O son of my brother, I start this day upon a journey of ten days with my party, and would say a word to thee before I go. Elias tells me that both thou and he propose to ride forth with the young khawajah, and show him something of the land. That is well. Elias, though sometimes foolish, has experience; and I have told him to instruct thee fully in our business. Go not too far, for travel in wild places is too arduous for one so young; and Elias has little acquaintance with the desert ways, and that little disastrous, he and all his party having been captured and held to ransom by the Bedu, because he forgot to pay the tribes their proper dues. Be cautious and observant. In sh' Allah we shall all return in safety."