“It is well.... Yet not altogether well. After fifteen years of obeisance, now at last I am lord of something—a small thing, but earnest of more to come. That is good. Praise to Allah, I am blest in that!... But it has taken long to reach this little eminence, and has cost me—Merciful Allah!—how much money! My patrimony is all but spent. And this post is not worth the trouble unless as a step to something finer. A few rock-scraping fellahìn, a few wild-beast Circassians.... What profit, O Lord, in such a government? After six months or eight I shall return. Then, it may be, they will speak to me of a pashalik. Where—Allah pity!—can I touch the price of a pashalik? Without money I can go no farther. If Shems-ud-dìn, my brother, will not help me, I must borrow of the infidel. O Shems-ud-dìn! O my soul! Allah knows it has been my sin to neglect thee. How long since I embraced thee, O my dear!”
The boat came to land at a point where a huddle of colored dwellings on the sea’s brink and a mosque with needle-pointed minarets cast a shimmer on the smooth water. Milhem clambered out on to a landing stage and started to climb a path through orchards which led to his brother’s house.
The Sheykh Shems-ud-dìn sat under a tree enjoying the view, across the strait, of the imperial city, when he was struck by the apparition of a white sunshade slowly bobbing up the path from the shore. Another minute and he sprang to his feet, crying, “Thanks to Allah!” With eyes alight, he ran to kiss his brother.
“They told me thou wast gone,” he said, as he led him to the carpet under the tree. “But my heart informed me that they lied. Thou wouldst never have gone without my peace on thee. I am glad they lied who told me thou wast gone.”
“Of a surety they lied,” chuckled Milhem. “Everyone thought I should travel with those wild beasts. Only this morning one of the greatest called me laggard for remaining behind. Hear my answer! I said: ‘O my lord, had I journeyed with the colonists, I had surely been a party to their quarrels as they arose. With your Grace’s permission, let the quarrels first arise that I, coming as a stranger, may judge impartially with whom the right. Moreover,’ I said, ‘may it please your Highness, I would set my house in order ere I go. And your Excellency’s self will admit that the city Istâna is mistress of more charm than the desert possesses.’ I tell thee, he laughed, that great one; he laughed immoderately and praised my understanding. Men begin to perceive that Milhem Bey is not foolish. In sh’ Allah he will be Milhem Pasha some day.”
“In sh’ Allah!” echoed Shems-ud-dìn vaguely.
“But a province costs much money!” sighed Milhem, at the same time darting a sharp glance at his brother’s face.
The stupid had not heard. There he sat, fingering his great black beard, and gazing with his great brown eyes, full and wistful as a gazelle’s, over the cypress tops of an adjacent cemetery, over the blue strait, to the crowding minarets of the city.
“Am I here to watch thee dreaming?” said Milhem tartly. “Art in love, or what ails thee?”
Shems-ud-dìn turned to him with a smile.