"We ate the salt of our covenant together, Abdul, on the night when you brought the saint in your arms to my camp. I can never forget that you are more than my servant. You are my friend and companion."
"Our faith is a gift of God, Effendi, and all the good works we perform are the effects of a principle implanted and kept alive within us by the Spirit of God."
"Granting that is so, Abdul, which I do, nevertheless, the covenant of our friendship is sacred. Tell me, why does the flag trouble you?"
"Can my master see it now? Can he not distinguish any other objects?"
Michael looked again. They had travelled quickly. As he looked his heart stopped beating; his brain became confused; he felt like a drunken man. Clearly his eye had seen!
"My God!" he said inaudibly. "It can't be that, it can't be that!"
To his naked eye the crescent and the star on the waving flag were still invisible, but he could see its vivid red, and he could see other objects—white patches, like a collection of saints' tombs.
"Abdul," he said—his voice was miserably broken and spent—"what are those white things?"
"Tents, Effendi."
"Government tents?"