As I raised my hands, my loose burnouse fell from my arms, leaving them bare, and disclosing that they were white!
“Ah!” cried the Sheikh, his bright eyes flashing with anger. “So thou art a spy! Thou, son of a dog, seekest the overthrow of Allah’s chosen!”
“My father,” I cried, “I—I am not a spy. Behold! I have neither knife nor gun. Is it not written that the One Worthy of Praise showeth mercy only to the merciful?”
“Seize the dog! Take him away, and let him be shot at dawn, as soon as there is sufficient light to distinguish a black thread from a white,” the old rebel commanded with a wave of his sun-tanned hand.
Then, rising, he cast aside his pipe impatiently, and was about to enter his tent, when his passage was barred by a veiled girl in rich silks and gauzes, who stood for a moment gazing at me. Her adjar, although concealing her face, left visible a fine pair of sparkling black eyes, and a forehead that had been plentifully bedaubed with powder in the manner of Eastern women. Rows of golden sequins hung upon her brow, and upon her wrists and bare ankles were jingling bangles.
“Hold!” she cried in a commanding tone, raising her bare arm and addressing the Sheikh. “Though innocent of any crime, thou hast condemned him to die. Is it not written in the Book of Everlasting Will that mercy should be shown unto the weak?”
“He is a Roumi, and his tribe will be consumed by the unquenchable fire in Al-Hâwiyat,” answered the chief of the rebels.
“Of a verity thou speakest the truth,” she said. “But is it not also written that thou shalt not transgress by attacking the infidel first, for Allah loveth not the transgressors.”
“I have spoken!” roared the Sheikh in anger. “Seek not to argue, but return unto thy divan. The son of a dog shall die!” and, pushing her roughly aside, he strode into his tent amid the murmured approbation of the crowd of dark-visaged horsemen who had assembled.
“Brothers,” she cried in a voice that betrayed her agitation, “the Roumi now before thee hath fallen into our hands, therefore we should show him mercy. I, Halima Fathma, daughter of thy Sheikh,—upon whom may the One Merciful pour abundant blessing—appeal unto thee on his behalf. Wilt thou not release him, and lift from my heart the weight which oppresseth it?”