As Barakah lay in bed and watched the pattern of the lattice, her whole existence passing like a dream before her, she sought to reconcile her former English with her present Eastern life. Her son was a fine boy, they all assured her. It saddened her that she had no relations of her own to take a pride in him. In this mood she asked Yûsuf to write a little note to Mrs. Cameron entreating her to come one day and see the baby. He did so, and the answer was that she would come with pleasure.
Elated by the prospect of this visit, Barakah wished to have her offspring made presentable; but when she gave command to wash his face and wrap him in nice clothes, the goodies screamed aloud, and fetched the lady Fitnah to remonstrate with her. She gave way, perforce; and Mrs. Cameron beheld the infant at his worst.
The visitor was very kind in her address to Barakah; but, when she held the baby for a minute, looking down at it, the latter, watching keenly, saw upon her face a quiver of extreme disfavour mixed with pity. The whiteness of her hands and face showed the child yellow; Barakah had thought him white as snow till then. A flush of anger and humiliation reached her brain.
“His face is dirty, the poor little one! Our Lord preserve him!” the visitor remarked in Arabic as she returned the baby to his nurse; at which there was an outburst of applause from the onlookers. They called down blessings on the lady’s head, desiring she might have herself a thousand children, not like this one, puny and unpleasant, but most beautiful.
Barakah, consumed with rage, murmured hoarsely in response to Mrs. Cameron’s farewell. The moment she was gone she burst out weeping.
“She did not like the child! She scorned my son, because he is not altogether white as she is.”
“Thou mistakest, O my dear! Be comforted!” cried Fitnah Khânum, while the other women round her exchanged pitying glances.
“Thou art not yet perfect in our prudent customs; but thy friend, though not a Muslimah, has learnt them, having been much longer in the land. Hast thou forgotten my instructions touching El Carînah? Nor is she alone to be redoubted, since Allah Himself abhors a boastful spirit, and dishonours those who make too much of any creature....”
“O Lord! I know all that!” wailed Barakah. “But she disliked my child, despised him! I—I saw it!”