He licked his lips. “And the price, my lord?” he asked, in a small voice.
“Price?” quoth Asad. “Have I not bid thee purchase her? Bring her to me, though her price be a thousand philips.”
“A thousand philips!” echoed Tsamanni amazed. “Allah is great!”
But already Asad had left his side and passed out under the arched gateay, where the grovelling anew at the sight of him.
It was a fine thing for Asad to bid him remain for the sale. But the dalal would part with no slave until the money was forthcoming, and Tsamanni had no considerable sum upon his person. Therefore in the wake of his master he set out forthwith to the Kasbah. It wanted still an hour before the sale would be held and he had time and to spare in which to go and return.
It happened, however, that Tsamanni was malicious, and that the hatred of Fenzileh which so long he had consumed in silence and dissembled under fawning smiles and profound salaams included also her servants. There was none in all the world of whom he entertained a greater contempt than her sleek and greasy eunuch Ayoub-el-Samin of the majestic, rolling gait and fat, supercilious lips.
It was written, too, that in the courtyard of the Kasbah he should stumble upon Ayoub, who indeed had by his mistress’s commands been set to watch for the wazeer. The fat fellow rolled forward, his hands supporting his paunch, his little eyes agleam.
“Allah increase thy health, Tsamanni,” was his courteous greeting. “Thou bearest news?”
“News? What news?” quoth Tsamanni. “In truth none that will gladden thy mistress.”
“Merciful Allah! What now? Doth it concern that Frankish slave-girl?”