Into the midst of this scene came another policeman, gripping by the arm a poor Jewish seamstress[page 254] named Mesaôdah, who had had the temerity to use insulting language to her captor when that functionary was upbraiding her for not having completed some garment when ordered, though he insisted on paying only half-price, declaring that it was for the governor. The Jewess had hardly spoken when she lay sprawling on the ground from a blow which she dare not, under any provocation, return, but her temper had so far gained the mastery over her, that as she rose she cursed her tormentor roundly. That was enough; without more ado the man had laid his powerful arm upon her, and was dragging her to his master's presence, knowing how welcome any such case would be, even though it was not one out of which he might hope to make money.
Reckless of the governor's well-known character, Mesaôdah at once opened her mouth to complain against Mahmood, pitching her voice in the terrible key of her kind.
"My Lord, may God bless thee and lengthen...."
A fierce shake from her captor interrupted the sentence, but did not keep her quiet, for immediately she continued, in pleading tones, as best she could, struggling the while to keep her mouth free from the wretch's hand.
"Protect me, I pray thee, from this cruel man; he has struck me: yes, my Lord."
"Strike her again if she doesn't stop that noise," cried the kaïd, and as the man raised his hand to threaten her she saw there was no hope, and her legs giving way beneath her, she sank to the ground in tears.
"For God's sake, yes, my Lord, have mercy on thine handmaid." It was pitiful to hear the altered[page 255] tones, and it needed the heart of a brute to reply as did the governor, unmoved, by harshly asking what she had been up to.
"She's a thief, my Lord, a liar, like all her people; God burn their religion; I gave her a waistcoat to make a week ago, and I purposed it for a present to thee, my Lord, but she has made away with the stuff, and when I went for it she abused me, and, by thy leave, thee also, my Lord; here she is to be punished."
"It's a lie, my Lord; the stuff is in my hut, and the waistcoat's half done, but I knew I should never get paid for it, so had to get some other work done to keep my children from starving, for I am a widow. Have mercy on me!"
"God curse the liar! I have spoken the truth," broke in the policeman.