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In a beautiful imagery of words, he had begged the 'Ulama to send his gratitude and thanks to the Englishman by whom, God, in His everlasting mercy, had sent him relief. On Michael's return to Egypt the next year, almost the first thing which he had done on reaching Cairo was to go to el-Azhar and inquire at the ancient abode of peace if he could see his old friend.
El-Azhar still vibrates with the murmur of many voices, although the lessons of the morning are nearly finished. Once past the threshold of the double ornamented door we enter the courtyard, at this moment empty as the desert and dazzling with sunshine.
She neither felt convinced nor unconvinced upon the subject of Akhnaton's vision or upon the truth and reliability of the old man's words at el-Azhar. Suggestion is so often at the root of what appears to be the supernatural.
First of all you tell me what you have been doing. You look tired." Her voice was tender. "You are not happy? And I have been very good!" "I am tired," Michael said. "Cairo tires me after the desert. I have been to el-Azhar." "To the university! I want to go there. If we had only gone together! Why didn't you take me?" A strange smile changed Michael's expression.
And since then successive sovereigns of Egypt have vied with one another in perfecting and enlarging it, adding new halls, new galleries, new minarets, till they have made of El-Azhar almost a town within a town. "He who seeks instruction is more loved of God than he who fights in a holy war." A verse from the Hadith. Eleven o'clock on a day of burning sunshine and dazzling light.
"I need no material food, O my father," Michael said, "I have eaten well and I know your frugal life. I seek better food." "That is well, my son. Prayer is better than food. I have prayed for you." Michael knew that at el-Azhar all studies are absolutely free; the teaching is entirely gratuitous.
"He's a splendid old warrior," Michael said tenderly. "When you think of what he's achieved, isn't he wonderful? I wish you could see him." "The force of will-power, of concentration," Meg said. "I suppose he has never thought of anything else all his life, but this one dream of el-Azhar." "That's it," Mike said. "But what gives these Moslems that wonderful power of mind-control?" Mike paused.
The great university-mosque of el-Azhar would, Michael knew, remain open all night, all but one small portion, the principal place of prayer. When he reached the Iretons' house, he rang the bell at the door of the outer courtyard. The Nubian who was stretched out on the mastaba behind it did not trouble to rouse himself.
He must think over what he ought to do. As his eyes rested on the Eastern scene before him, a sudden vision of his old friend at el-Azhar came to him. The university-mosque would not be closed, its gate would open and receive him into the Perfection of Peace.
He had drifted, one day urged by the unconquerable voice, the next cut off from his purpose by the advice and companionship of prosperous friends. He felt that his faith would move no mountains, his perseverance perform no miracles. Were Mohammedans more zealous than Christians? Was there in theory, in ideals, any other institution in the world like el-Azhar?
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