“Yes, at once. Where is he?”
“No, no, not at once,” said the Sheikh. “Poor Hassan has waited three years; he can wait another hour till the Hakim has eaten and rested. Then his Excellency will be refreshed, his eyes will see more clearly, and may be then he will be able to make an old man’s heart rejoice. If it is not to be—well, His will be done.”
“Yes,” said the doctor gravely, as he laid his hand upon the Sheikh’s arm.
“And there are other sufferers here, Excellency, who would pray to you for help, for we are not free from the ills which afflict mankind. A mother would ask you if her little one will live. There is a little girl whose sight is nearly gone, and one of my young men whose broken leg does not grow together again. Shall we be asking too much of the Hakim if we say, look at these sufferers and give them words of comfort if you can give them nothing more, not even hope?”
“I am a learned Hakim, you say, Sheikh, and I have come out here to use my knowledge without fee or reward. Heaven helping me, I hope to do much good, and I place myself in your hands. You will lead us where you think best, and you will bring the people whom I ought to see. That is enough.”
“Yes, Excellency, and as soon as your friends are ready the breakfast waits.”