“Come nearer, boy!”
Stasch advanced with an energetic, soldier-like step, bowed for the second time, then straightened up stiff as the string of a bow and waited, looking directly into the eyes of the Mahdi.
“Peace be with you! Are you pleased to come to us?”
“No, prophet! We were carried away from our fathers against our wills.”
This frank answer created a sensation not only for the ruler, who was accustomed to being flattered, but on the others present as well. Calif Abdullah frowned, the Greek bit his lips and began to twist his fingers; but the Mahdi never ceased smiling.
“But,” he said, “on the other hand, you are now at the fountain of truth. Will you drink at this source?”
A short silence ensued, and the Mahdi, thinking that the boy had not understood the question, repeated it more plainly.
“Will you accept my teaching?”
Whereupon Stasch, with the hand that he held to his breast, without attracting attention, managed to make the sign of the cross, just as though he were going to spring from a sinking ship into deep water.
“Prophet,” he said, “I am not familiar with your teaching, so if I were to accept it I should do so only from fear, like cowards and base persons, and do you wish cowards and base persons to accept your faith?”