“God knows your meaning,” said Wassef in a sudden fright; for the Englishman’s tongue was straight, as he well knew.
“They sneer at you behind your back, Mahommed Wassef. No man in the village dare tell you, for you have no friends, but I tell you, that you may save Soada before it is too late. Mahommed Selim lives; or lived last quarter of the moon, so says Yusef the ghaffir. Sell your ten-months’ camel, buy the lad out, and bring him back to Soada.”
“Saadat!” said Wassef, in a quick fear, and dropped the stem of the narghileh, and got to his feet. “Saadat el basha!”
“Before the Nile falls and you may plant yonder field with onions,” answered Dicky, jerking his head towards the flooded valley, “her time will be come!”
Wassef’s lips were drawn, like shrivelled parchment over his red gums, the fingers of his right hand fumbled in his robe.
“There’s no one to kill—keep quiet!” said Dicky, But Wassef saw near by the faces of the villagers, and on every face he thought he read a smile, a sneer; though in truth none sneered, for they were afraid of his terrible anger. Mad with fury he snatched the turban from his head and threw it on the ground. Then suddenly he gave one cry, “Allah!” a vibrant clack like a pistol-shot, for he saw Yusef, the drunken ghaffir, coming down the road.
Yusef heard that cry of “Allah!” and he knew that the hour had come for settling old scores. The hashish clouds lifted from his brain, and he gripped his naboot of the hard wood of the dom-palm, and, with a cry like a wolf, came on.
It would have been well for Wassef the camel-driver if he had not taken the turban from his head, for before he could reach Yusef with his dagger, he went down, his skull cracking like the top of an egg under a spoon.
III
Thus it was that Soada was left to fight her battle alone. She did not weep or wail when Wassef’s body was brought home and the moghassil and hanouti came to do their offices. She did not smear her hair with mud, nor was she moved by the wailing of the mourning women nor the chanters of the Koran. She only said to Fatima when all was over: “It is well; he is gone from my woe to the mercy of God! Praise be to God!” And she held her head high in the village still, though her heart was in the dust.