“Let me go, my father,” cried Selim, seating himself on the carpet close to his father’s knees, and looking up to his face with eager, entreating eyes, “I can shoot. Thou knowest the new gun which thou didst send for to London, in the land of the English, and which the good balyuz (Balyuz is an Arabic word for consul, or rather ambassador) taught me how to use. The balyuz told me the other day that I would be able to shoot better than he could, by-and-by. I can shoot a bird on the wing already with it. Give thy consent, and let me accompany thee, father. I will be both good and brave, I promise thee.”
“Hear the boy!” said Amer, admiringly. “A true Bedaween could not have spoken otherwise. But why dost thou wish to leave thy mother, child, so soon?”
“My mother will regret me, I know, but I am now strong and big, and it is not good for me to remain in the harem all my life. I must quit my mother some time, for work which all men must do.”
“And who gave thee such ideas, son Selim? Who told thee thou wert too big to remain with thy mother?”
“The other day I went out with Suleiman, son of Prince Majid, and the young son of the American balyuz—I can’t pronounce his name—to shoot wild birds. The young American boy, who is smaller than I am, and already thinks himself a man, though he is no bigger than my hand, laughed at me; and when I asked him why he laughed, he said to me, ‘Truly, Selim, thou appearest to me to be like a little girl whose mother bathes her in new milk every day to preserve her complexion. I cannot understand the spirit of an Arab boy which contents itself with looking no further out-doors than within sight of a mother’s eyes.’ These are the words he spoke to me within hearing of Suleiman, Majid’s son, who also laughed at me, while I felt my cheeks were red with shame, they tingled so.”
“Tush, boy! What is it to thee what the thoughts of a forward Nazarene lad are? Thou art not of his race or kin. But I must own to ye, my friends,” said Amer, turning to the elders, “that the youths of the Nazarenes (Nazarene is the Arabic term for Christian) are bolder than ours, though they do not possess higher courage or loftier spirit than our own children. Who would have thought that such large independence could hide within the little body of the American balyuz’s son? That small child cannot be twelve years old, yet he talks with the wisdom of a man. All the Nazarenes are wonderful people—wonderful! Who are stronger, richer than the Nazarenes of England?”
“Ah, but, father,” said Selim; “do you not think the Nazarenes are accursed of God, and of the prophet Mohammed—blessed be his name? The American boy told me the Arabs are wicked, and are accursed of God. Said he to me that same day in hearing of the Sultan’s son, as if he was not a bit afraid of the consequences, ‘The Lord God makes his anger known against the Arabs by refusing knowledge and the gifts of understanding unto them, because they are wicked, because they go forth into Africa with armed servants a-plenty to destroy and kill the poor black people, and to take slaves of parents and children, whom they bring to Zanzibar to sell for their own profit.’ Is he not an unbeliever, father?”
“Peace, Selim; let not thy tongue utter such words against the true believers, though they may have been said by a young dog like that. Cast them away from thee entirely, and let not thy father hear thee utter aught against thine own race and kindred. To the unbelievers God has said, ‘Woe unto them; they shall be the prey of the flames.’”
“But, father, thou art not offended with me? Thou hast not yet given thy consent to my going with thee and my kinsman.”
“Dost thou know, my child, that the Pagans are fierce, that they have great spears and knives, and will cut that slim neck of thine, and perhaps eat thee without compunction?” asked Amer, smiling.