He kissed Shems-ud-dìn very suddenly on both cheeks, sprang into his carriage, and was driven to a foreign hotel.
His brother, left thunderstruck, stood by the door of the customhouse, impervious to the frantic efforts made by porters, and others having an interest in new arrivals, to attract his notice. He scarcely heard his servant speak to him, and answered at random a question as to whither they should be going.
“So his Excellency the Bey has flown again,” said the voice of Yûsûf, the old merchant, close to his ear. “Well, Allah knows where such birds nest! I know not, nor greatly care to know. Wilt thou make the journey to Esh-Shâm with us who are plain men? With Allah’s leave we will hire baggage animals, and buy each one of us an ass whereon to ride. We shall journey slowly, by easy stages, being old men and burdened with fat. If thy youth can bear with our infirmities, journey with us and welcome, for we love instruction, and it is seldom that a learned sheykh of the religion falls to our lot for company.”
“Let it be as he says, O my lord!” pleaded the negro eagerly; for he tired of standing still, a gazing-stock for low people.
“So be it then,” said Shems-ud-dìn, with a cordial smile. “By my beard, I thank thee; for in this minute I knew not where to face.”
So it happened that Shems-ud-dìn entered the city of his birth one morning, riding soberly upon an ass, in the company of three fat old men, riding each likewise upon an ass. The legs of all four stuck out wide over full saddlebags. On foot beside Shems-ud-dìn went his faithful negro, now walking, now trotting, in accordance with the donkey’s pace. From Zebbadâni, where they had spent the night, they ambled by garden ways to the great city, down a valley full of shade, and the song of birds, and the ever-sweet murmur of running waters.
Shems-ud-dìn had found the journey anything but tiresome. And now, in the familiar streets where every sight and sound recalled his childhood, he felt like nothing more than a happy child.
Near by the khan of Ahmed Effendi, in a covered way narrow and crowded, where the cavalcade had to go in single file with shouts to clear the path, a hand grasped Shems-ud-dìn’s arm, and the voice of Milhem snarled:
“Get down! Get down, madman!”
With fear the traveler alighted, holding his donkey by the bridle. The rope was promptly snatched from his hand and thrust into that of the negro, who stood grinning by.