I could endure no more; besides my teeth were chattering, and all the aches that were so especially my own took possession of my frail body again. I came out of my hiding-place to where the halaïc lay.
She looked up at me bewildered. Then she rose on her knees, and touched me with her fingers, as if to ascertain that I were a living child. She peered into my face through the tears in her eyes—and I, quite afraid now, said not a word.
At length she broke the silence.
“Is that you, Greek baby?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Who sent you here?”
“Nobody. I came.”
She extended her palms upward. Her face took on one of her mystic smiles.
“Allah,” she said softly. “Allah, thou forgivest me, the unworthy.”
For a long time she prayed to that power whom she called Allah, and I knew to be God. When her prayers were at an end, she gathered me to her heart, and kissed me with love and fervent exaltation; and thus carried me into the house.