"Lord king," said Ussuf, "I am skilled in the way of 'They,' and I tell you that they do not love sacrifices."
The king shifted on his stool irritably.
"That is strange," he said, "for the gods told me in a dream that I must sacrifice Lapai."
He shot a swift glance at the Arab, for this Ussuf was the only man in the city who did not deal scornfully with the lonely, outcast woman, whose every day was a hell.
It was the king's order that she should walk through the city twice between sunrise and sunset, and it was the king's pleasure that every man she met should execrate her; and although the native memory is short, and the recollection of the tragedy had died, men feared the king too much to allow her to pass without a formal curse.
Ussuf alone had walked with her, and men had gasped to see the kindly Arabi at her side.
"You may have this woman," said the king suddenly, "and take her into your house."
The Arab turned his calm eyes upon the wizened face of the other.
"Lord," he said, "she is not of my faith, being an unbeliever and an infidel, and, according to my gods, unworthy."
He was wise to the danger his undiplomatic friendship had brought him. He knew the reigns of Prime Ministers were invariably short.