He helped her to remount, and they retraced their steps. The solemn thoughts which had possessed her mind gave place to rattle of dry bones and impish laughter. A merry dance was going on within her brain, as mad as could be, though her senses were quite clear—clearer than ever they had been before, she knew exultantly. She rode out from the place of tombs across the sandhills towards the city.
“Hist!” said her companion suddenly, and stopped the donkey, hanging on to its tail to prevent braying. “There are men without a lantern—robbers! I hear voices.”
She strained her ears in the direction pointed.
“Am I not acknowledged sheykh of all the thieves?” some unseen man amid the darkness was exclaiming angrily. “Was it not I alone who had the wisdom to foresee that every man would seek to hide his wealth this night? It is light work for you; they fly like conies at a shout, leaving their treasure, and the light for you to count it. Why then grumble that I sit here and receive the gold? Some one must hold it for fair distribution. Say, have I ever wronged a man among you of one small piaster? See, yonder comes another lantern. Go, do your work, and say no more to me.”
“Stay, O my lady! For the love of Allah,” moaned Selîm. “They are robbers, murderers, the worst of ruffians.”
But Barakah had urged the donkey forward; the laughter in her brain deriding fear. She headed straight towards the voices, waving her left arm and shouting madly. She heard a shriek of “The afrîtah! Help, O Allah!” and saw men running as if fiends pursued them. Her next sensation was a dive into the sand. The ass had stumbled. Selîm assisted her to rise, and murmured reassuring words which made her cry.
Remembrance of her little daughter overcame her. She had prayed to Christ to guard her child before she recollected that the prayer was useless. There was no mercy for disciples of the Arab prophet. She reeled and would have fallen had not Selîm caught her. As it was, she sank upon the ground, refusing to remount or take another step.
The boy, resigned, sat down beside her, holding his donkey by the halter-rope. They were upon the trodden plain below the citadel. Lying upon her back, she saw a blackness rising till it took the shape of bastions, walls, towers, surmounted by a dome and needle-pointed minarets. Gazing at this and at the stars she fell asleep.
When she awoke it was still night. The donkey-boy was snoring on the ground hard by. A chill and a strange silence hung about her. The stars above were throbbing violently as if about to burst in showers of light. Her grief returned upon her like an ague. “O Lord, have mercy on me!” she exclaimed, and groaned aloud.