‘I cannot give a pass to the mountains,’ said Darkush, ‘but the sympathy of friends is a river flowing in a fair garden. If this prince, whose words and thoughts are dark, should indeed be one—— Could I see him, Effendi?’
‘It is a subject on which I dare not speak to him,’ said Baroni. ‘I hinted at his coming here: his brow was the brow of Eblis, his eye flashed like the red lightning of the Kamsin: it is impossible! What cannot be done, cannot be done. He must return to the land of his fathers, unseen by your Queen, of whom he is perhaps a brother; he will live, hating alike Moslem and Christian, but he will banish me for ever to islands of many demons.’
‘The Queen shall know of these strange things,’ said Darkush, ‘and we will wait for her words.’
‘Wait for the Mecca caravan!’ exclaimed Baroni. ‘You know not the child of storms, who is my master, and that is ever a reason why I think he must be one of you. For had he been softened by Christianity or civilised by the Koran——’
‘Unripe figs for your Christianity and your Koran!’ exclaimed Darkush. ‘Do you know what we think of your Christianity and your Koran?’
‘No,’ said Baroni, quietly. ‘Tell me.’
‘You will learn in our mountains,’ said Darkush.
‘Then you mean to let me go there?’
‘If the Queen permit you,’ said Darkush.
‘It is three hundred miles to your country, if it be an hour’s journey,’ said Baroni. ‘What with sending the message and receiving the answer, to say nothing of the delays which must occur with a woman and a queen in the case, the fountains of Esh Sham will have run dry before we hear that our advance is forbidden.’