The old man ceased. His benevolent lips were murmuring a prayer.
At this moment the hideous call for prayer from the minaret would no longer be denied, and the seven boys, plunged in profound thought, retired slowly to the poverty-stricken home of the physician, their father. They found him tired out with having sat up all night at the sick-bed of a howling dervish, who in his last dying whisper (and that a hoarse one), had confessed his total inability to pay the customary fee.
ITMI’NÁN AL-NAFS
That is:
The Peace of the Soul