She dragged him through into the court. She had the strength of a jinni. Her clutch rent his clothing, which had been ragged enough before. Yet he dared not offer resistance lest, at touch of her, desire should master him.
A second voice of woe assailed his ears. It came from the shadowed side of the yard, from out a vault, of which the door stood open.
“Go in! Look!” shrieked his conductor, dragging him to that doorway.
Zeyd strove after the superior smile of one who humors a madwoman, but his look changed quickly to horror and his hands flew up. There, within, upon a low couch, lay the form of Ismaìl the doorkeeper, stiff in death, the face fixed in a travesty of its wonted kindly grin. The brow seemed to have shrunk away from beneath the turban, the cheeks had sunken; the white beard seemed a growth independent of the chin it fastened on. It was no longer the man, simple yet so wise, whom Zeyd had known and revered, but something derisive, harsh, and terrible, a menace and a curse.
Beside the corpse lay Fatmeh on her face, weeping bitterly. The girl who had admitted Zeyd pushed past him and kicked the prostrate one again and again, then, kneeling, beat and pinched her unmercifully, screaming:
“Weep! Weep! By the Gospel, I will make thee weep, O cause of misfortune to the house that sheltered thee. Foul daughter of a Muslim, weep louder, louder! Oh, if all you Muslimûn were made on the pattern of him who lies there, then earth would be a different place! Cease not to weep, lest I tear thy eyes.”
In the frenzy of her spite, she had forgotten Zeyd. When he flung her back by main force, she looked on him with blind eyes a moment. Then with the hiss of an angry serpent she strove to scratch his eyes, spitting venomously.
“May Allah blind and maim thee! All shall die—thou and thy wicked sheykh, and this woman, and, the rest of you—all—all! My lord went to the consul—the consul, hear you? And the end of all of you is concerted, if not accomplished.... Ah, devil! What wouldst thou? Let go; let go, I say! O Allah! O Blessed Lord!”
Anger had driven from Zeyd’s mind every thought of goodness. He saw only the charms of the woman, remembered only her brutality to Fatmeh, and the affronts she had put upon himself. With clenched teeth and blazing eyes, he was working to master her when the voice of the Frank called without. In the same minute she ceased struggling and he let go.