But Newâsi stood still as stone on the first step of the stairs.
"Pass!" she repeated clearly, coldly. "Art mad, Abool? that thou comest hither with no excuse of drunkenness and alone, at this hour of the night. For shame!"
Why, indeed, she asked herself wildly, had he come? He was not used to do so. Could he have heard? Had he come on purpose? There was a sound as if he retreated a step, and from the dark his voice came with a wonder in it.
"What ails thee, Newâsi?"
"What ails me!" she echoed, "what I have lacked too long. Just anger at thy thoughtless ways. Go----"
"But I have that to tell thee of serious import that none but thou must hear. That which will please thee. That which needs thy kind wise eyes upon it."
"Then let them see it by daylight, not now. I will not, Abool. Stand back, or I will call for help."
The sound of retreat was louder this time, and a muttered curse came with it; but the voice had a trace of anxiety in it now--anxiety and anger.
"Thou dost not mean it, kind one; thou canst not! When have I done that which would make thee need help? Newâsi! be not a fool. Remember it is I, Abool; Abool-Bukr, who has a devil in him at times!"
Did she not know it by this time? Was not that the reason why he must not find this Christian? Why she must refuse him hearing? Though it was true that he had a right to be trusted; in all those long years, when had he failed to treat her tenderly, respectfully? As she stood barring his way, where he had never before been denied entrance, she felt as if she herself could have killed that strange woman for being there, for coming between them.