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"I will not leave Egypt without saying farewell to you, O my father, and asking for thy blessing." Very soon God will permit His servant to enjoy the blessings of paradise." "It will not be many days before I go to England." "Aiwah, the time draws near when each man will return to the land which gave him birth. The Lord of Battles has decreed it, the Lord of Battles will send forth His summons.
"Aiwah, Effendi, that is so. Your servant offers his apologies for bringing you bad news." To Abdul's eternal amazement, Michael burst into a roar of laughter, hearty, unsuppressed enjoyment of a good joke. "Gone?" he repeated. "The Sitt has gone, made a moonlight flitting? The little devil!" Abdul's mystification was so complete that he could only salaam. "The little coward!" Michael said.
To his naked eye the crescent and the star on the waving flag were still invisible, but he could see its vivid red, and he could see other objects white patches, like a collection of saints' tombs. "Abdul," he said his voice was miserably broken and spent "what are those white things?" "Tents, Effendi." "Government tents?" "Aiwah, Effendi." "What are they doing near the hills?"
I have long and eagerly awaited it." "Were you watching for me?" Michael asked. "I saw you at the door of your cell. I am glad I came." "Even as you came, I looked for you. The Lord of Kindness knows the desires of our hearts; He grants all those which in His mercy He deems fit." "You desired to see me, O my father?" "Aiwah, for long I have desired it."
"Aiwah, Effendi. The Omdeh does not live in the rocks, like the bats. His house is just outside the village. He is very rich he owns many camels and much cotton and he has a date-farm. He is entitled to three wives." "Very well, Abdul. I put myself in your hands." Michael sighed.
"Aiwah, Effendi, I do, if there is any truth in the story. And if there is not, it is very strange that such a rumour should have been started at this moment." "I agree," Michael said. "And yet something in my heart tells me that Madam has not done the deed." "The little voice, Effendi, it is always true, it knows. If the little voice counsels, always obey it."
Has anyone been unkind to the saint?" "Aiwah, Effendi, it is not that." Abdul spoke lengthily and in the correct Arabic fashion. He must not approach the subject too quickly. "Tell me," Michael said. "What troubles you, Abdul?" "Aiwah, Effendi, the honourable Sitt has left you. She has gone there is no trace of her camp." "What?" Michael jumped out of bed. "The Sitt has gone? No sign of her camp?"
"Yes, Abdul," he said. "I suppose we must be going on our way. It is sad to leave this camp, where we have witnessed such a wonderful example of humility and singleness of purpose. Don't you shrink from leaving him to such utter desolation?" "Aiwah, Effendi, but you know there is joy for us all, not sadness.
This immediate response to her call always made Millicent suspicious of eavesdropping. "Abdul," she said, "the holy man we met this morning is ill. Tell the bearers to go to him don't let the Effendi touch him, Hassan." "Aiwah, Sitt, I will attend." With the same breath Abdul screamed for two of the men to come and help the saint. They came with flying leaps towards him. "Mike, oh Mike!"
The Living Aton was penetrating the rat-pit. "Aiwah, Effendi, that is the exit of the village. The Omdeh's house is not far off in less than five minutes the Effendi will be reposing in his cool selamlik, his throat refreshed with caravan tea." In a native house the selamlik is a spacious room or summerhouse, set apart for the receiving of guests.
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