Féraz resumed his writing in silence. He was thinking of Irene Vassilius, whom he admired;—and also of that wondrous Sleeping Beauty enshrined upstairs whose loveliness he did not dare to speak of. He had latterly noticed a great change in his brother,—an indefinable softness seemed to have imperceptibly toned down the habitual cynicism of his speech and manner,—his very expression of countenance was more gracious and benign,—he looked handsomer,—his black eyes shot forth a less fierce fire,—and yet, with all his gentleness and entire lack of impatience, he was absorbed from morning to night in such close and secret study as made Féraz sometimes fear for its ultimate result on his health.
“Do you really believe in prayer, Féraz?” was the very unexpected question he now asked, with sudden and startling abruptness; “I mean, do you think any one in the invisible realms hears us when we pray?”
Féraz laid down his pen, and gazed at his brother for a moment without answering. Then he said slowly—
“Well, according to your own theories the air is a vast phonograph,—so it follows naturally that everything is heard and kept. But as to prayer, that depends, I think, altogether on how you pray. I do not believe in it at all times. And I’m afraid my ideas on the subject are quite out of keeping with those generally accepted——”
“Never mind—let me have them, whatever they are”—interrupted El-Râmi with visible eagerness—“I want to know when and how you pray?”
“Well, the fact is I very seldom pray”—returned Féraz—“I offer up the best praise I can in mortal language devise, both night and morning—but I never ask for anything. It would seem so vile to ask for more, having already so much. And I am sure God knows best—in which case I have nothing to ask, except one thing.”
“And that is——?” queried his brother.
“Punishment!” replied Féraz emphatically; “I pray for that—I crave for that—I implore that I may be punished at once when I have done wrong, that I may immediately recognise my error. I would rather be punished here, than hereafter.”
El-Râmi paled a little, and his lips trembled.
“Strange boy!” he murmured—“All the churches are praying God to take away the punishments incurred for sin,—you, on the contrary, ask for it as if it were a blessing.”