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Updated: June 11, 2025
Pop was meek and soft; he cried gently of a Sunday evening at church, the tears trickling down the furrowed leather-colored skin into the sparse beard, and on week-days he was wont to wear a wide and vacuous smile; yet somehow, if Pop said this or that should be, it was, at least in the little house on the edge of the village. And Pop had said Druse should go.
Not that they failed to be shocked sometimes, when, on her wild Indian pony, Fleda swept through Manitou like a wind and out into the prairie, riding, as it were, to the end of the world. Try as they would, these grateful mothers of Manitou, they could not get as near to Fleda Druse as their children did, and they were vast distances from her father.
In his visions he had seen her Fleda Fawe, not Fleda Druse laying the cloth and bringing out the silver cups, or stretching the Turkey rugs upon the ground to make a couch for two bright-eyed lovers to whom the night was as the day, radiant and full of joy.
I've had a meeting of the Council and I've got the sailing-orders I want. I'm boss of the place, and Mr. Druse is my " he stopped, because there was a look in the eyes of the Ry which demanded consideration "And Mr. Druse is lawboss," he added. The old ineradicable look of command shone in the eyes of Gabriel Druse. Leadership was written all over him. Power spoke in every motion.
And the Druse chief of the House of Djezbek, who for five hundred years had never yielded precedence to the House of Djinblat, and Sheikh Fahour Kangé, who since the civil war had never smoked a pipe with a Maronite, but who now gave the salaam of peace to the crowds of Habeishs and Dahdahes who passed by; and Butros Keramy, the nephew of the patriarch, himself a great Sheikh, who inhaled his nargileh as he rode, and who looked to the skies and puffed forth his smoke whenever he met a son of Eblis; and the House of Talhook, and the House of Abdel-Malek and a swarm of Elvasuds, and Elheires, and El Dahers, Emirs and Sheikhs on their bounding steeds, and musketeers on foot, with their light jackets and bare legs and wooden sandals, and black slaves, carrying vases and tubes; everywhere a brilliant and animated multitude, and all mounting the winding steep of Canobia.
She never seemed to be doing anything. A few torn books lay about, but Druse never saw her open them. She had warned Druse not to come in of an evening, for her brother might be home in a temper.
As he looked round in that instant of ghastly silence he had observed almost mechanically that the old man's lips were murmuring something. Then the thought of Fleda Druse shot into Rockwell's mind, and it harassed him during the hours Ingolby slept, and after the giant Gipsy had taken his departure just before the dawn.
His life had been broken on the rock of civilization, but his simple soul had learned some elemental truths not many, but the essential ones, without which there is no philosophy, no understanding. He knew Fleda Druse was thinking of her father, wondering if he would understand, half-fearing, hardly hoping, dreading the moment when she must meet him face to face.
The parts appropriated to the descendants of Aaron, the High Priest, were given to them, the hind quarters were presented to the Mussulman and Druse attendants and moukaries, and the forequarters to poor Jewish families. All present appeared happy. Singing, playing, dancing, and performances with sword and gun, afforded amusement to old and young, to Druse, Mussulman, Christian, and Jew.
"I will have my own," said Tekewani, with malediction on the thief who had so shamed him. Black anger was in the heart of Gabriel Druse as he turned again towards his own home, and he was glad of what he had done to Felix Marchand at the Orange funeral. "Like the darkness of the grave, which is darkness itself "
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