But Tâhir answered pleasantly: “Here, O my son! Take it and play for me. Observe the measure. Strike loudly in the pauses, softly while I sing.” And Fatûmah, quite beside herself, exclaimed:
“Behold the man he is! He can dispense with all things. That which would ruin the performance of another singer is a joy to him.”
Hamdi acquitted himself fairly well of the task of accompaniment and won a word of praise from Tâhir, which so moved him that when the singer was departing the next morning early, he stole out to him, and, looking round to ascertain that he was heard of none save Barakah, entreated:
“Take me with thee, O my uncle. Instruct me, let me play for thee for ever. This girl, thy daughter, this little sugar-plum, shall be my bride. Then we can all live happily together.”
“The honour is too high for us, O my small lord!” the singer answered, with his charming smile. “Thy lot in life is better far, in sh´Allah, than that of us poor players.”
“But they say that thou canst earn a hundred pounds a night.”
“Seldom as much as that, beloved. And my living is at Allah’s pleasure. It is a gift from Him, to whom be praise. Come to me four years hence, and we will think about it.”
With a dignified salute he started off; the children, on their donkey, waved their hands and screamed farewell. Hamdi was left standing disappointed and a trifle injured.
“O my misfortune!” he exclaimed to Barakah. “I would have given my right hand to go with him. Like that I could escape from persecution and accursed Na’imah, and dwell for ever in the sound of music which transports my soul. Allah is greatest!”
And he heaved a mighty sigh.