"God Wills It!" A Tale of the First Crusade.

by William Stearns Davis

"My sons—I show great marvels; many should see. Your master—away? But are there no 'flowers of beauty' in the harem who would admire the one-eyed Sheik Teydemeh, the greatest 'white' magician in all the land of Egypt?"

Hakem put his mouth to Wasik's ear. "Bring out Morgiana and the Greek. Let them be thickly veiled."

Wasik hesitated. "We are bidden to keep the Greek closely in the harem," he remarked.

"We are bidden to see that she does not pine away with naught but grief to think of. Bring both forth."

Before the magician had finished unburdening his mysterious sack, Wasik led in a lady all buried in silks and muslins. Hardly were her dark eyes visible under the veils. "I bring the Greek," whispered Wasik to Hakem; "she obeyed me like a dumb ox, but Morgiana is in her moods and will go nowhere."

The lady sat upon the soft divan listlessly, hardly so much as rustling her dress. The sheik rose, mumbled words doubtless of incantation, and commenced reeling cotton ribbons from his lips till they littered the floor. Then he drew from his teeth a score of tin disks big as silver coins, again poured water into a borrowed cup, and gave it to Hakem to drink—behold, the water was become sugar sherbet! Then the magician blew on a tiny reed flute a strain so sweet, so delicious, Hakem verily thought he heard the maids of Paradise; and as he sang the sheik began to juggle with balls, first with one hand, tossing three balls; then laying aside the flute he kept six flying, all the time dancing and singing in a low quaver in some tongue that the eunuch did not understand, but thought he had once heard spoken among the Franks of Sicily. Presently the sheik threw up two more balls, making eight speed in the place of six; and he danced faster, spinning round and round amid the smoking bowls, until he came to a stand right before the veiled lady, who was no longer listless now, but sat erect, eager, her bright eyes flashing from beneath her veil, though Hakem did not see—all his gaze was on those flying balls. The sheik halted before her, spinning upon one foot, yet keeping his place. Suddenly he broke off his chant in the unknown tongue and sang in Arabic with clear, deep voice:—

"Sweet as the wind when it kisses the rose Is thy breath; Blest, if thine eyes had but once on me smiled, Would be death. Give me the throat of the bulbul to sing Forth thy praise, Then wouldst thou drink the clear notes as they spring All thy days; Nard of far Oman's too mean for thy sweetness, Eagle-wings lag at thy glancing eyes' fleetness; By thy pure beauty, bright gems lack completeness, Lady, ah! fairest!"

And Hakem did not see the rustling nor hear the little sigh under the muslin and silk, for the sheik had sped round in his dance once more; again chanting in that foreign tongue some incantation, doubtless to unseen powers to aid him in his art. Then the wonder-worker halted, wiped the foam from his lips, and began new tricks; blowing a little earthen bowl from his mouth,—drawing a live rabbit from one of the smoking bowls,—and performing many marvels more, till the eunuchs showered on him all the small change they had about them, and gave him a great basket of dates and figs to carry to the khan where he said he lodged.

That night as Hakem, with clear conscience, went to bed, he observed to Wasik: "Truly, the visit of the one-eyed juggler was better than fifty elixirs for bringing back bloom to the Star of the Greeks! Surely, if one such mountebank can cheer her thus, she shall be fed on white magic each day. Cid Iftikhar will summon hither every skilful conjurer from Damascus to Bagdad."

And Wasik answered: "By the Prophet, it is true. We are to tame Citt Mary, but not to break her spirit. Give her mind its food as well as her body. She is not like our Arab maids, whose Paradise a new necklace can girdle!"