He put forth a hand to touch her arm, and she drew it back as if his fingers were of fire.
He sighed. “How inscrutable are the ways of Allah, that He should suffer so luscious a fruit to hang from the foul tree of infidelity!”
Tsamanni watching him craftily, a master-sycophant profoundly learned in the art of playing upon his master’s moods, made answer:
“Even so perchance that a Faithful of the Prophet’s House may pluck it. Verily all things are possible to the One!”
“Yet is it not set down in the Book to be Read that the daughters of the infidel are not for True-Believers?” And again he sighed.
But Tsamanni knowing full well how the Basha would like to be answered, trimmed his reply to that desire.
“Allah is great, and what hath befallen once may well befall again, my lord.”
Asad’s kindling eyes flashed a glance at his wazeer.
“Thou meanest Fenzileh. But then, by the mercy of Allah, I was rendered the instrument of her enlightenment.”
“It may well be written that thou shalt be the same again, my lord,” murmured the insidious Tsamanni. There was more stirring in his mind than the mere desire to play the courtier now. ’Twixt Fenzileh and himself there had long been a feud begotten of the jealousy which each inspired in the other where Asad was concerned. Were Fenzileh removed the wazeer’s influence must grow and spread to his own profit. It was a thing of which he had often dreamed, but a dream he feared that was never like to be realized, for Asad was ageing, and the fires that had burned so fiercely in his earlier years seemed now to have consumed in him all thought of women. Yet here was one as by a miracle, of a beauty so amazing and so diverse from any that ever yet had feasted the Basha’s sight, that plainly she had acted as a charm upon his senses.