For Barakah the city wore its usual air; the only wretched figure was her own. She was being led back to a life which had become intolerable. After her tragic flight of yesterday, how ignominious was this meek return! Ghandûr, beside her, talked of the extreme anxiety in which her flight had plunged the Pasha’s family.
“O my lady, how hadst thou the heart to cause us such despair? Think of it! One like thee, alone and in the streets at such a time, when all authority is in abeyance, and the English host may come at any moment with the lust of conquerors! A hundred men were searching for thee through the night. My lord the Pasha thought that grief might lead thee to the place of tombs, and he himself went thither with the slaves enjoined to hide our valuables. Praise be to Allah, thou art found at last! Take comfort, O my lady! Often and often have I grieved for thee, alone among us! And when our great calamity befell—alas, that son of mine should bear such evil tidings!—I prayed to Allah to reveal to thee His boundless mercy. For it has no limits. For all who suffer in this world He will redress the balance. Even the unhorned cattle, O my lady! It is written.”
Barakah heard these consolations as a dreary murmur.
“I am taking thee to the late Pasha’s house, to the great lady,” he informed her. “My lord considers it will be less sad for thee.”
The great lady meant no other than Murjânah Khânum. Recalling the authority Murjânah wielded, Barakah imagined she was being led to punishment.
Two eunuchs came forth, bowing, crying, “Praise to Allah!” They helped her to dismount, and both supported her. A minute later she had passed the harîm screen. Her brief excursion in the world was ended. She was once more caged.
Imagining her crime to be as great as that of Christian nun in breaking convent, and knowing that Murjânah Khânum could be ruthless, she expected torture; instead of which she was caressed and put to bed.
She had her lodging in Murjânah’s rooms, was dosed by Fitnah, comforted by Leylah Khânum. The younger ladies came as visitors and talked to cheer her. Old Umm ed-Dahak, not to be excluded, crouched by her bed and crooned as to an infant.
“Why are you all so kind to me?” she asked one day. “I tried to flee, I tell you, to escape to Europe—yet you pet me!”