“Easily. Rub some of the philtre on a chicken’s beak; if it is really potent, the chicken will follow you wherever you go!”
“Have you seen that yourself?”
“No. I want no love-philtres. I manage well enough without them. I don’t care to play with a thing you can’t control. I might get into trouble, like Nakhôdah Ma’win. It is easy enough to give the potion, but I never heard what you do to stop it. Anyhow, if I wanted to buy the stuff, I should first try it on a chicken, and if it had no effect I should not believe in it, for every one knows that the story of Ra’ûnah and Ma’win is true, or they would not sing about it to this day. Hark! the teacher is calling to prayer.”
A number of boys’ high-pitched voices were chanting—
“Bihak-illah, rizal-l’ Allah!
A’ain-nu na, bi-aun illah!”
and, across their chorus, came the sonorous, far-reaching tones of the priest—
“Allah-hu akbar!
Allah-hu akbar!