CHAPTER XXIX
Left alone, Iskender took up a position in which he could watch the open door of the church without seeming to do so. Then, as soon as he beheld Nesîbeh peeping out, he opened his paint-box, laid his sketch-book on his knee, and made believe to set to work in earnest, crooning a facetious song the while, to complete the deception. His object was to tempt or provoke the girl to come to him. For days past she had withstood all his allurements, taking to her heels at his approach. He desired an explanation of such queer behaviour, and, having learnt that frankness was of no avail, resorted now to subtlety.
After a space of apparent absorption in his work, he hazarded a glance out of the corners of his eyes, and was glad to see that she was drawing nearer. From the glimpse thus obtained he judged her discontented, sullen, even angry, and suspected some hostility to be the object of her stealing up behind him. But he was quite unprepared for what actually happened. A large stone, flung at close quarters with all the strength of her young arms, struck him fairly between the shoulders, just where the bruises resultant from yesterday's beating most thickly congregated. It knocked all the breath out of his body. The shock, however, stood him in good stead; since it prevented his acting on the first angry impulse of retaliation, and at the same time gave him a look of genuine anguish. In a trice she was at his side, weeping and imploring his forgiveness.
"Say thou art not badly hurt—say it, I implore thee. By my life, I should die if I had injured thee."
Iskender did his best to personate the last agony, writhing and rolling his eyes, and clutching at the air with palsied hands. In despair of soothing one in that condition, she changed mood swiftly and became defiant.
"No matter," she sneered. "Thou art not hurt to death; and by Allah thou deservest any suffering in return for the shame and humiliation thou hast put upon me. What was that Frank—curse his religion!—to thee, that thou must go every hour only to watch the house where he lay ill? He had cast thee off, when I came and comforted thee. Yet is he dearer! O the disgrace to me to have offered my love and to be thus rejected! Would to Allah I had never seen thy dirty, ugly, wicked—thy accursed face! It is the face of a pig, of an afrît; so now thou knowest! What had I ever done to harm thee that, after speaking to me of love and asking for me, thou didst turn thy back and spurn me for the sake of a vile foreigner who has blackened thy face and made of thee a byword for infamy? I heard thee ask my father; and I heard his answer. There was hope for thee. Why has thy mother never come to talk with mine? By Allah, I will take that stone again and kill thee with it; for it seems that I am nothing in thy eyes, O misbegotten!"
Iskender knew not how to answer, for her reproach was righteous; yet he loved her dearly. He was released from this embarrassment by the return of Mîtri, who had been into the town to visit a sick man. He had drawn quite near before the bickering pair perceived him. Nesîbeh made as if to fly indoors; but the priest called her back rather sternly.
"Art afraid of me, thy father, child of mischief? By the Gospel thou hast cause to fear, O shameless, O deceitful. But wait a minute, I command thee, and hear what I have to say to this young man."
The girl obeyed demurely, standing by, with hands folded in the fall of her white headveil while her father addressed Iskender.
"It is known, O my son, that I have conceived a fondness for thee; and so it seems has this wild girl of mine. The mother of Nesîbeh, too, speaks well of thee, because thou dost run her errands, and art fond of playing with the younger children—things which seem naught to me, but please her greatly. I say not that I will not give Nesîbeh to thee, some day in the future, if thou walkest straight. At present she is very young; and thou hast yet no trade by which to gain a livelihood. Now I have been thinking; Allah has bestowed on thee a rare and wondrous gift, which is, to make flat likenesses of all things that thine eyes behold. There lives in El Cuds a sheykh of my acquaintance—a righteous man, and steadfast in the faith—who earns his living, and a fat one, by no other means. He makes the icons and religious pictures for many of our monasteries and great churches. Often, in old days, when I was at the seminary, have I watched him shape the blue and crimson robes and spread the gold like butter. I will write a word to him and, maybe, pay a trifle, that he may receive thee as his disciple. Devote thyself to his instruction and soon, with the grace of Allah, thou wilt far surpass him in accomplishment. Then, after a year or two, return and speak to us of marriage. We shall hear thee favourably. Have I said well, O my daughter?"
The child was silent. The weight of her father's words had stilled and solemnised her, removing every trace of coquetry. Her head was bowed as at the benediction; she was sobbing. Mîtri patted her head and bade her run indoors.
"There is yet another reason," he told Iskender privately, "why I would defer the nuptials for a year or two. Did thy wedding with my daughter follow close on thy conversion, scoffers would see in it a clear inducement, would say that I bribed thee with my flesh and blood; and that would grieve me. Go away, therefore, for a reasonable time; let the noise of thy conversion die away; and all is said."
So it was arranged.