Barakah interrupted with a prayer to Allah to avert the omen of her stabbing fear. She clutched Muhammad to her bosom; but he, intent on playthings, kicked and struggled, even swore at her. And at that moment Fitnah Khânum was announced.
CHAPTER XXVI
When Fitnah Khânum entered, the small boy was stamping about on the dais, hurling frightful imprecations at his mother, who was on her knees endeavouring to soothe him. His fez was off, and he had trampled on it in his rage; he tore his clothing. Umm ed-Dahak, crouching by the wall with her narghileh, made clucking noises to attract the child; while the wife of Ghandûr, standing, smiled upon the scene, awaiting the command to bear him off. The floor was littered with his broken playthings. The light that filtered in through the rich lattice was blue with all the dust that he had raised.
“Look, here comes thy grandmother, a great lady. Hush, O Muhammad! Be a good boy. I will give thee such nice sweeties.”
“Mayest thou be ravished and then cut in pieces!” shrieked Muhammad, knuckling both his eyes. Therewith he spurned his mother with his foot.
The visitor remained a moment petrified. It was the first time she had seen her grandson at his worst. Then, boxing both ears of the wife of Ghandûr, who stood grinning near her, she rushed upon the wicked boy, and slapped him hard, regardless of his kicks and blows, his horrid language.
“Learn to respect thy mother, little malefactor,” she admonished him, enforcing every word with punishment. “Thou art no better than a heathen, than a wild beast. Thou wilt merit fire hereafter!”
But Barakah sprang on her like a tigress. “He is my child! Let him alone!” she panted.