Elias listened with devout belief.
"A pity!" he explained. "But take heart, O my soul; thou and I will go together one of these days and examine that whole region. We shall find it yet, in sh' Allah!"
So obliging was his friendliness that he insisted on being a witness of Iskender's baptism upon the morrow. His presence, with the scarlet dust-cloak and the silver-mounted whip, astride of a prancing charger, reflected glory on the little group of peasants who trudged out to the nearest river, the priest with them. On the return there was a feast set forth in the house of Mîtri, and great rejoicing of the whole community. Elias was in boisterous spirits, boasting and telling strange stories; the sons of Mûsa discussed politics and the price of money with the rich Azîz; the priest made childish jokes and laughed at them; while the remainder of the party, mere turbaned fellâhîn, swarthy-faced and rough-handed, ate heartily and applauded all that was said. The only death's-head present was Abdullah. Dismissed by Cook as a result of the aspersions of the missionary, he now proclaimed his intention to start business on his own account. But men shook their heads and winked aside when he talked of it. The testimonials which he vaunted as his stock-in-trade had been given to an elderly man of dignity and pronounced decorum, not to this mouthing sheykh of the dirty raiment and the visage ploughed by dissipation. On the present occasion he had no appetite for solid food, but sat apart morosely, tasting from time to time with manifest disrelish the light drinks provided. It seemed he wished to go, but lacked the strength of mind required to detach his person from so large a company. His head and hands kept trembling, and he muttered to himself.
Merriment was at its height when there came a knock at the door. The priest Mîtri opened, and exclaimed in glad surprise:
"Honour us, O khawâjah! Come in! Fear not! All my guests are honest people, and the occasion of our feast concerns thee nearly. We have this day reclaimed a Brûtestânt from the way of perdition. Would to Allah I might baptize thee also, O light of my eyes!"
The belated visitor would have drawn back at glimpse of so large a gathering, but Mîtri took him by the arm and brought him in. It was the preacher Ward, the humblest of all missionaries, who was sent about the country on the errands of the proud ones; a modest, pious man, who spoke good Arabic and scorned not to converse upon a footing with the natives of the land.
All rose upon his entrance. Old Abdullah straightened his frame to something of its former majesty, and said:
"Good efenin', sir!"
"I have come too late, I find," the small white-bearded clergyman remarked to Mîtri, who had forced him to be seated and set food before him. "I knew not that the baptism had taken place. My desire was only to ascertain that Iskender was earnest in this change of faith, and not impelled by anger at a treatment he conceived to be unjust."
"By Allah, no, he is the most sincere of converts!" responded Mîtri with his jolly laugh. "Have I anything to tempt a proselyte? Look round this room—with one beyond it, it is all my house—and compare it with the dwelling of the Father of Ice. Ah, no, my friend: this is a true conversion!"