Selim forgot everything and became frolicsome at tea; I did not follow his example, however, first, because I was sad, and second, I judged that it did not become a serious man, already a guardian, to appear like a child. That evening Selim raised another storm; this time with Father Ludvik, because when we were at evening prayers in the chapel, he flew out to the yard, climbed onto the low roof of the ice-house, and began to howl. The dogs of the yard rushed together from all sides and made such an uproar while accompanying Selim that we could not say our prayers.
"Have you gone mad, Selim?" asked Father Ludvik.
"Pardon me, Father, I was praying in Mohammedan fashion."
"Do not make sport of any religion, thou rascal!"
"But if I, begging your attention, want to become a Catholic, only I am afraid of my father, what can I do with Mohammed?"
The priest, attacked on his weak side, was silent, and we went to bed. Selim and I had a room together, for the priest knew that we liked to talk, and did not wish to hinder us. When I had undressed and saw that Selim was doing the same without praying, I inquired,—
"But really, Selim, dost thou never pray?"
"Of course I do. If thou wish, I will begin right away."
And standing in the window he raised his eyes to the moon, stretched his hands toward it, and began to cry in a singing voice,—
"Oh, Allah! Akbar Allah! Allah Kerim!"