“Long live the Mahdi!”
“Down with the foreigner!”
“The Mahdi has come!”
Max looked at Shula, but the merchant did not speak.
His face was white as that of a corpse. He knew that he had staked all his property and his life on the riot which was then in progress.
“Is it true? Has the Mahdi come?”
“No, Max, but the people are expecting him.”
A heavy fusillade was heard on the streets, the windows were shaken, and some panes of glass broken.
“What does it mean?”
“They are fighting,” answered Shula.