CHAPTER XXIV
“Blood,” explained Umm ed-Dahak, “is but the juice of living creatures. Had they crushed a fruit before thee, would thy Grace have shrunk or fainted? Those servants sacrificed a thing of value in thy name and scattered blood upon the threshold to bring thee good luck. The flesh of the victim was distributed among the needy, as an almsdeed to the credit of the house of Yûsuf Bey. There are those among the learned who declare such practices to be against religion. Allah knows! Blood is the life of creatures, and a precious offering; and our traditions say that it is wise to shed it upon great occasions. Do but apply thy mind, and thou shalt learn to view such sacrifices with a sort of pleasure. It is true, by Allah! There is a thrill peculiar to the sight of blood.”
To this and many kindred exhortations Barakah replied with shudders. She was downright ill. At last, perceiving her repugnance to be quite invincible, the old woman resigned that branch of her instruction to the Most High, and once more proffered only what she knew would please her. Observing, also, her disgust at the sight of blind, diseased, or crippled persons, numbers of whom frequented the harîm in quest of alms, she prevented such from entering her presence.
To gain some credit with Murjânah Khânum, Umm ed-Dahak went and told her, “My sweet lady is too frail. The weakness of the infidels still clings to her. She cannot put her trust in God as we do, but is harassed by the thought of pain and illness. I have tried in vain to win her to a better mind.”
“Leave that to Allah!” was the saint’s reply. “All that I ask of her is to frequent her equals, and not seclude herself in low frivolity.”
“To hear is to obey,” bowed Umm ed-Dahak.
She forthwith set to work to school her mistress in all the courtesies expected of a noble lady. She coached her for her visits, teaching her the names of all the male relations, after whom it was the custom to inquire although she could not know them, together with the private history of each lady of the house.
With such a commentator at her elbow, Barakah found amusement in her social duties. Amînah Khânum was as kind to her as ever, but made no secret of her disapproval of the life she led.
“I know,” she said, “that thou must feel bewildered sometimes. Our life here is so different from that of Europe. It is natural for one who has left much behind to seek forgetfulness in little pleasures. But why with vulgar natives of the country? Why not with us, who are more civilized and have a nobler view of El Islâm? Thou art not the only European to be found among us. I have asked some others here to meet thee, and rid thee of the sense of loneliness, which must be dreadful.”
She had in truth collected half a dozen other European women who had married Muslims and assumed the veil. But Barakah, instead of being pleased to meet them, seemed annoyed. They came from Italy and Southern Austria. To be ranked with them aroused her English pride. When Amînah Khânum asked why she disdained them, she replied that they were women of the lowest class and doubtful character.