She broke off suddenly, for just then the door of the room opened and the hakìm himself entered, followed by Fatmeh and an unveiled woman who also waited upon Alia.
Shems-ud-dìn withdrew. He knew now that the hakìm had told truth when he said that the end was very near. He saw his late torpor of enjoyment, and the still evident delight of Fatmeh, in their true colors, the colors of the sunset hour, the fairest of the day, the gate of night. The sun of a blinding love drew near his setting.
Going down into the court, he spoke with Zeyd and the two old negroes till the hakìm came forth from Alia, when he ran and clutched his raiment.
“Let me talk with thee, O lord of bounty!”
“Willingly. We will go to the housetop; it is pleasant at this hour.”
On the housetop, moving in the blaze of the sinking sun, the Frank explained to Shems-ud-dìn, as well as his knowledge of the Arabic would permit, the nature and peculiar symptoms of Alia’s malady. It was incurable, he had said so from the first. He had done what man could to relieve the pain of it, and increase by a little the number of her days. There was nothing more on earth that he could do. Even supposing she might live, which was impossible, the mere life deprived of certain organs would be ghastly torture, no blessing, but a very curse.
Shems-ud-dìn, hearing him theorize thus, and mistaking the tenor of his jumbled words, on a sudden wave of longing forgot even Allah Most High. From his sinful heart he cried:
“Save but the life of her, the life alone! She dead, what have I left on earth to care for?”
Almost fiercely, he gripped the wrist of the Frank, repeating:
“Save but the life, O best of physicians, and may Allah bless thee ever!”