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 Mîtri 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 Mîtri, 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 Brûtestânt, 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 Emîr, whom I love truly, casts me off. The Brûtestânts, who brought me up, despise me. The Christians call me dog!"
"O man, stop crying, for it frightens me." Nesîbeh 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 Mîtri.
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 Brûtestânts, 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 Emîr 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 Emîr, 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 Brûtestânt!" 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 Emîr 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 khawâjah?" Mîtri 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 Brûtestânts, and come to me henceforth for instruction in the way of right?"
"I have done already with the Brûtestânts," 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 Nesîbeh 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 Azîz; and Azîz 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 Azîz 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 fellâh. 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 Brûtestânt, the son of Yâcûb? 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 fellâh forthwith embraced Iskender, and began at once to tell him of the joys of Heaven.
The brother of Azîz 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 Mîtri, 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 Mîtri, 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.