This arrangement was satisfactory to all but Golah himself, who expressed himself greatly displeased with it. Nevertheless, he seemed a little disposed to yield to circumstances; for, soon after the decision of his captors was made known to him, he called to Fatima, and commanded her to bring him a bowl of water.
The favourite refused, under the plea that she had been forbidden to give him anything.
This was true; for, as he had declined to accept of anything at the hands of those claiming to be his masters, they had determined to starve him into submission.
Fatima’s refusal to obey him caused Golah his greatest chagrin. Ever accustomed to prompt and slavish obedience from others, the idea of his own wife, his favourite too, denying his modest request, almost drove him frantic.
“I am your husband,” he cried, “and whom should you obey but me? Fatima! I commanded you to bring me some water!”
“And I command you not to do it,” said the Arab sheik, who, standing near by, had heard the order.
Fatima was an artful, selfish woman, who had gained some influence over her husband by flattering his vanity, and professing a love she had never felt.
She had acted with slavish obedience to him when he was all-powerful; but now that he was himself a slave, her submission had been transferred with perfect facility to the chief of the band who had captured him.
It was now that Golah began to realise the fact that he was a conquered man.
His heart was nearly bursting with rage, shame, and disappointment; for nothing could so plainly awaken him to the comprehension of his real position as the fact that Fatima, his favourite, she who had ever professed for him so much love and obedience, now refused to attend to his simplest request.