“And the fifteen from forenoon?”
“One and a half francs.”
“So, altogether for the twenty?”
“Two francs.”
I gave him only two francs—not a fraction of a Turkish piaster more: “Here! Paid in full!” He quickly gripped the money and slipped it into his pocket. This time, he bowed deeply as he sincerely said: “Effendi, I thank you. You are fair as well as wise. May your journey home be a blessed one.”
The trip was indeed a blessed one. Mustafa was angry about the fanaticism of his fellow believers; during the entire time, he had no objection to his son’s crush on the small Christian girl. When we reached Bethlehem, he took a deep breath and said: “A lot of love and much goodness has come out of this small city, much more than any other large and famous pilgrimage places. Today, I was rightly and starkly reminded of my own zealot’s mind-set. What have you ever done to the people of Hebron? Not a thing! Still, they transgressed against you. Such unkindness and injustice! What did my own brother do to me? Nothing. Yet, I banished him, my dear brother. I was much more unloving and far more unjust than the Canaanites of Hebron. Now that evening is finally here, I can tell you that thoughts of him were with me throughout the entire afternoon.
“What was his name?” my wife asked.
“Achmed Bustani. As you heard me say, we still kept the same family name. I now have no greater wish than that he is still alive and that he will find me!”
“Would you really divide your wealth with them?”
“Of course, immediately! It’s not only because I promised my dying wife that I would do so—for me, it’s a personal necessity. Ever since that dream that I told you about, I’ve had a very strange feeling about something more that I now must be concerned about as we make our way home. When we were outside of Abraham’s Well, it seemed as if some invisible thing accompanied you when you climbed into the carriage—something that took hold of me and now doesn’t want to release me again. Perhaps it’s nothing more than realizing the wrongs that need to be righted. Yet in a strange sense, I’m not anxious; instead, it makes me feel much more at ease. There’s a feeling of contentment. It burrows itself into me—not to torment, but rather to put me at ease. Are you going to laugh at me when I tell you something which you yourselves can not comprehend?”