The son of Yâcûb longed to be alone and weep his fill, but could not leave Elias in possession. It was as a dumb and piteous plea against the usurpation of Elias, and not from any hope of reinstatement, that he attended the Emîr that afternoon, when the dragoman led them among the stinking alleys of the town, under archways and through private houses, pointing out sites of interest which Iskender felt sure were of his own invention; and he very soon wished that he had kept away. For Elias, according to his promise, "brought him forward," begging the Emîr to have compassion on him, because he was a good boy and devoted to his Honour's service. Iskender could only mutter, shamefaced, when the Frank addressed him.
"Why did you deceive me? I thought you were well off, or I should never have accepted all those presents. Now you must please accept a trifle from me."
Iskender found in his hand a piece of gold, and saw Elias nodding and grimacing. He murmured words of thanks perfunctorily, the while he gnashed his teeth with secret rage. Such kindness was an outrage to his love, being given at the bidding, in the presence, of the rogue Elias. The cup of his humiliation overflowed.
"Now all is well," Elias told him afterwards. "Be thankful that thou hast a friend like me. He smiled on thee; he gave thee money. Thou art back in favour."
Iskender was obliged to thank him kindly. What his soul needed was to be alone with his Emîr, to throw himself at his feet, and win his true forgiveness. The casual kind word with a fee was worse than nothing in the realm of love. But Elias, as if of fixed intent to thwart him, stood always in the way, annihilating the unhappy youth with condescension, bidding him cheer up and amuse his Honour. Iskender heard his rattle with a stupid admiration which the Emîr's applauding laughter made quite envious. He himself had fallen to the level of a mere serving-lad, to run his Honour's errands and be tipped occasionally.
His mother judged that things were thriving with him, since he brought home money; and he did not undeceive her, wishing to keep his grievous fall a secret as long as possible; though soon, he feared, it must be evident to all the world. Already Yuhanna and the other dragomans jeered at him in the streets, acclaiming the triumph of Elias, their own comrade. He thought of invoking the aid of his uncle Abdullah, but that respectable man was for the moment absent on Cook's business. There seemed no hope of success by his own efforts, for in the presence of the Emîr he could not now think clearly, nor find a word to please. Distress of longing set a cloud upon his brow, a weight upon his tongue, which was not lightened when Elias chaffed him for a dull companion.
It was only when alone that he regained his normal wit; and then his soul leapt up in envy of the brilliant dragoman. Elias was clever; he had seen the world; his position as a dragoman would bear inspection. No wonder that the Frank preferred him to the son of a poor washerwoman, whose lowliness Elias himself was always emphasising. Thus attacked, and without defence, since there was no denying that his origin was humble, Iskender's pride took refuge in its old imaginings. Walking to the hotel, he would picture himself a king's son in disguise, or else the owner of enormous treasure; would smile, and clench his hands, and step exultantly; would think:
"If the Emîr but knew me as I really am!" But, approaching the Emîr, such fancies vanished. They were of no use because no one would believe them. It took Elias to give truth to wondrous stories by judiciously eschewing points that could be verified. Iskender, in great anguish, prayed to Allah to destroy Elias, or at least to teach His servant a true story, that he might outshine the miscreant. Dazzled by the triumph of that splendid liar, he thought of story-telling as the only way to the Emîr's good graces; and lay awake whole nights constructing fables which the first faint light of dawn showed to be worthless.
An appeal to the good nature of his rival failed irrevocably. When Iskender entreated to be left alone with his Emîr, were it but for five minutes, Elias stiffened, crying:
"Curse thy father! What means this plaintive whisper in my ear? Thy Emîr! He was thine by his own will, and has tired of thee. Now he is my Emîr. It is natural he should prefer the society of a grown man who has dwelt in England, and acquired the manner of its nobles, to that of a loutish, sullen boy, untravelled, ignorant! Behold, I have stood thy friend. But for me, he would have cast thee off entirely.… Leave thee alone with him? No, by Allah, that I will not—and have thee telling wicked lies against me."