The priest, having disrobed, at length emerged from the sanctuary in his everyday costume of black cassock and tall cylindrical headpiece; when Iskender knelt before him with choice blessings, and implored his aid. In the shadow, with eyes yet dazzled from the radiance of the tapers he had just extinguished, Mîtri could not make out who it was, but holding the suppliant's hands led him up to the light. "Ma sh' Allah!" he exclaimed when he identified Iskender; and holding his hands more tightly, took him to his own house.
There, having sent his wife out on an errand, he called for Iskender's tale without delay, saying:
"I am much distressed on thy account; for the whole world speaks evil against thee. It is said that thou hast robbed and slain the English Emîr who trusted thee. A lie, no doubt; but still I fear for thee, for the common voice outcries the truth down here. Moreover, it is said that thou hast sworn falsely by the Blessed Sacrament; Yuhanna Mahbûb has vowed to kill thee for it. That is a heinous sin if it be true. Answer that first, before we proceed further. Art thou indeed so perjured?"
"No, O our father. By Allah, I swore truly when I said I knew of no treasure, as will appear from the full confession I now make to thee," Iskender answered, with eyes full of tears. He was going to embark upon his story when the figure of a woman closely shawled appeared before them in the doorway.
"May Allah reward thee, O our father Mîtri," cried his mother, as, stooping, she kissed the priest's black robe. "In pity save Iskender from those hounds of hell! All that they speak against him is a lie. It was the Frank led him astray, not he the Frank. I guessed he would fly straight to thee, the known friend and protector of the wronged, and my soul desired to be with him and hear his story."
Relieved of the fear of the missionaries which pervaded her own abode, she now embraced her son and, sitting beside him, took his hand in hers.
"Proceed with the story, O my son!" said Mîtri.
When all was told the woman wept aloud, exclaiming:
"Woe upon us! It is worse than was supposed. Iskender is a loser. Iskender is most innocent of all men living. Oh, who will show the truth to those who hate him? He has shown himself a fool—a perfect fool!"
Therewith she rose to go, explaining that she dared not stay another minute for fear the ladies of the Mission should go to the house in her absence, and grow angry and suspicious at not finding her. It was their usual morning for the visit. Once more she embraced her son, exclaiming: