Her intelligence, her laughing view of life, were stimulating, and prevented Barakah from brooding upon hopeless problems.
Without attempting to fatigue her mind in vain attempts to grasp the universe—as Europeans do, inviting pessimism—this old woman took her portion as it came, with relish and a very searching scrutiny. She likened herself sometimes to a fisher of the Nile, who all his life frequents one reach alone. He knows the currents and the mud-banks, marks the winds, and, without preoccupation with the river’s source or outlet, is cunning in the art of bringing fish to land. The soul of her philosophy was non-resistance; her morality held all means lawful to escape oppression.
“God is gracious and all-knowing,” she would shrug. “He gives to all His creatures, great and small, the wherewithal to move in their appointed element—to birds wings, fins to fishes, guile to women.”
In her time, she admitted, many sins had soiled her hands; shameful employments had defiled her countenance. They would be pardoned, being but a means to live. She held, against the world’s opinion, that Allah is indulgent to the faults of women and even has a secret fondness for them. Yet, with her guile, she had an admiration for pure virtue, a teardrop for true love, wherever found. And with all her common sense and her acuteness she was superstitious. As the fisher of the Nile, her chosen image, wears an amulet and names the name of power before he casts his net, so Umm ed-Dahak armed herself against malignant influences. Her belief in witchcraft, philtres, and all kinds of charms was quite beyond the reach of argument.
The old woman never asked for any wages. She took what food she wanted, helped herself to cigarettes, and called for a narghileh when the fancy seized her. By the Pasha’s order, in accordance with a pious custom observed at that time in good Muslim houses, eatables, such as meat and milk and vegetables which might go bad, were not kept overnight, the remainder of each day’s provision being given in the evening to the poor dependants. Of this dole Umm ed-Dahak claimed her share. If she required a garment or a gift of money, she did not beg for it, but told some tortuous and lengthy story which ended in a present as snakes end in tails. When Barakah saw through the artifice, she was in no way disconcerted. She merely smiled and praised her quick intelligence.
“Her need is real, for she is poor,” said Fitnah Khânum, when Barakah remarked on the old woman’s foibles. “But she loves subtlety far more than comfort, and would refuse high monthly wages, to obtain a lesser sum by stealth and coaxing, as occasion offered. She has had much money given to her, to my knowledge; but it is as dust to her. She is like the clever fellow in the story, who, having earned much money by his ingenuity, scrambled it among the crowd; and in the end, when it was finished, sighed, ‘O Allah, would that I had all the gold on earth to go on flinging it and see men fight like dogs for its possession!’”
Fitnah, though she scolded the old woman, had a liking for her company and waggish talk. And Umm ed-Dahak, being very diplomatic, paid her court. Indeed, she flattered all the ladies of the house with the assurance that she wished to be the spokesman of their will with Barakah, and went to them for orders every day.
The only person whom she feared was Yûsuf Bey, though she had known him from a child. At the first hint of his approach she fled the house. In vain did Barakah assure her he had no objection to her presence—nay, had said more than once that he would like to see her. The old creature smiled and wriggled, “May our Lord preserve him!” but fled no less. It all came of her desire for surreptitiousness. She would not have felt well in a harîm of which the lord approved of her.
Contentment grew in Barakah from day to day, and as the months wore on she lost the wish to go abroad. The young Muhammad could now run about, although he sometimes tumbled and set up a howl. He had been taught to testify to his religion in a piping voice and screamed at visitors, “There is no God but God. Muhammad is the apostle of God”; for which they blessed him. He had also learned to curse the infidels ferociously. A turbulent and wilful child, his mother and old Umm ed-Dahak thought him perfect. They never tired of watching him torment the slave-girls. “Ma sh´Allah!” the Mother of Laughter would croak rapturously. “A blusterer, by the Most High! A boy with all the signs of manhood on him! In sh´Allah, he will live to bully grown-up men!”
Occasionally Barakah paid visits as in duty bound; but she much preferred to stay indoors, to smoke and dream and talk with Umm ed-Dahak. Her husband, by his father’s influence, obtained a post of some importance, necessitating their removal shortly to a proper house, with a selamlik of its own where he could see his courtiers. Barakah looked forward to the change with high indifference, though Umm ed-Dahak strove to waken her enthusiasm, crying: