Iskender knew not how to answer, for her reproach was righteous; yet he loved her dearly. He was released from this embarrassment by the return of Mîtri, who had been into the town to visit a sick man. He had drawn quite near before the bickering pair perceived him. Nesîbeh made as if to fly indoors; but the priest called her back rather sternly.
"Art afraid of me, thy father, child of mischief? By the Gospel thou hast cause to fear, O shameless, O deceitful. But wait a minute, I command thee, and hear what I have to say to this young man."
The girl obeyed demurely, standing by, with hands folded in the fall of her white headveil while her father addressed Iskender.
"It is known, O my son, that I have conceived a fondness for thee; and so it seems has this wild girl of mine. The mother of Nesîbeh, too, speaks well of thee, because thou dost run her errands, and art fond of playing with the younger children—things which seem naught to me, but please her greatly. I say not that I will not give Nesîbeh to thee, some day in the future, if thou walkest straight. At present she is very young; and thou hast yet no trade by which to gain a livelihood. Now I have been thinking; Allah has bestowed on thee a rare and wondrous gift, which is, to make flat likenesses of all things that thine eyes behold. There lives in El Cuds a sheykh of my acquaintance—a righteous man, and steadfast in the faith—who earns his living, and a fat one, by no other means. He makes the icons and religious pictures for many of our monasteries and great churches. Often, in old days, when I was at the seminary, have I watched him shape the blue and crimson robes and spread the gold like butter. I will write a word to him and, maybe, pay a trifle, that he may receive thee as his disciple. Devote thyself to his instruction and soon, with the grace of Allah, thou wilt far surpass him in accomplishment. Then, after a year or two, return and speak to us of marriage. We shall hear thee favourably. Have I said well, O my daughter?"
The child was silent. The weight of her father's words had stilled and solemnised her, removing every trace of coquetry. Her head was bowed as at the benediction; she was sobbing. Mîtri patted her head and bade her run indoors.
"There is yet another reason," he told Iskender privately, "why I would defer the nuptials for a year or two. Did thy wedding with my daughter follow close on thy conversion, scoffers would see in it a clear inducement, would say that I bribed thee with my flesh and blood; and that would grieve me. Go away, therefore, for a reasonable time; let the noise of thy conversion die away; and all is said."
So it was arranged.
CHAPTER XXX
On the day when the Emîr set sail for England in the custody of his forbidding uncle, Iskender, with the sum of two mejîdis in his pouch, set out on foot for the Holy City. On his way to join a horde of Russian pilgrims with whom, by Mîtri's advice, he was to walk for safety, he saw the carriage belonging to the Hotel Barûdi, conveying the two Englishmen to the gate of the town. The carriage passed him from behind; its inmates must have had him long in view, the road being empty; yet the Emîr deigned never a glance at him, but laughed and talked, as if enchanted, with the horrible old ghoul who sat beside him. Iskender called down curses on their race, and hastened on to find his Russian pilgrims.