"His wife, whom he loved so dearly, died from grief at the loss of her son. The sheik then bought a ship, fitted it out, and induced the Frank physician who lives down there by the fountain, to sail with him to the country of the Franks, to search for young Kairam. They set sail, and had a long passage before reaching the land of those Giaours, those Infidels, who had been in Alessandria. But there every thing was in a horrible tumult. They had just beheaded their sultan; and the pashas and the rich and the poor were now engaged in taking each other's heads off, and there was no order or law in the land. Their search for little Kairam was a vain one, and the Frank physician finally advised the sheik to embark for home, as their own heads might be endangered by a longer stay. So they came back again; and since their arrival the sheik has lived just as he does to-day, mourning for his son. And he is in the right. Must he not think, whenever he eats and drinks: 'Perhaps at this moment my poor Kairam hungers and thirsts?' And when he has arranged himself in costly shawls, and holiday suits, as required by his office and rank, must he not think: 'He has probably nothing now with which to cover his nakedness?' And when he is surrounded by singers, dancers, readers, who are all his slaves, does he not think: 'Now my son may be dancing and making music for his master in the Frank's country, just as he is ordered?' But what pains him most is the fear lest little Kairam, being so far from the land of his fathers, and surrounded by Infidels who jest at his religion, may become separated from the faith of his fathers, so that he will not at the last be able to embrace him in the gardens of paradise. This is what makes him so mild with his slaves, and prompts his large gifts to the poor; for he believes that Allah will recompense him by moving the heart of his son's master to treat Kairam with kindness. Also, on each anniversary of his son's abduction, he sets twelve slaves free."
"I have heard of that," said the writer. "One hears curious stories floating about; but no mention was made to me of the son. But, on the other hand, it is said that the sheik is a singular man, and remarkably fond of stories, and that every year he institutes a story-telling match between his slaves, and the one who tells the best story is rewarded with his freedom."
"Don't put any faith in these reports," said the old man. "It is just as I have told you; it is, however, possible that he seeks the relaxation afforded by a story, on this day of painful recollections; but still he frees the slaves on his son's account. But the night is cold, and I have far to go. Schalem aleikum--peace be with you, young gentlemen, and think better, in the future, of the good sheik."
The young people thanked the old man for the information he had given them, glanced once more at the sorrowing father, and walked away saying to one another: "On the whole, I should not care to be the Sheik Ali Banu."
Not long afterward, it so happened that these same young men passed down the street at the hour of morning prayers. The old man and his story recurred to their minds, and they expressed their sympathy for the sheik as they looked up at his house. But how astonished were they to find the house and grounds gaily decorated! From the roof, where comely slave women were promenading, banners waved; the porch of the house was covered with costly carpets; silks were laid down over the steps, and beautiful cloth, of a texture so fine that most people would have been glad to have a holiday suit cut from it, was spread well into the street.
"Hey! How the sheik has changed in the last few days!" exclaimed the young writer. "Is he about to give a banquet? Will he test the powers of his singers and dancers? Only look at this carpet! Is there another as fine in all Alessandria? And this cloth laid right on the ground; really that is too wasteful!"
"Do you know what I think?" said another. "He must be going to receive some guest of high rank; for these are preparations such as are made when a ruler of a great country or a minister of the sultan blesses a house with his presence. Who can possibly be coming today?"
"Look! is not that our old friend below? He would be able to give us some information about this. Ho, there! old gentleman! Can't you come up here a moment?"
The old man noticed their gestures, and approached them, recognizing them as the young men with whom he had conversed some days before. They called his attention to the changes in the sheik's house, and asked him if he knew what distinguished guest was expected.
"You seem to think," replied he, "that Ali Banu has arranged for some festivities, or that he is to be honored by the visit of some great man. Such is not the case; but to-day is the twelfth day of the month of Ramadan, as you know, and is the day on which his son was taken prisoner."