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What happened when you did get to the place? I suppose you got there in the end?" "We did of course," said Gallagher, "and I showed him the ruin of the little houseen, the same as you told me to.
It could not be more than two hundred yards to the house of the notary and his waiting bride, but by the ancient tradition of Kairwan an hour must be consumed on the way. An hour! An eternity! Panic came over Habib. He turned his hooded eyes for some path of escape. To the right, Houseen!
It was Houseen Abdelkader, the caid's son, the comrade of long ago Houseen in silk of wine and silver, hyacinths pendent on his cheeks, a light of festival in his eyes. "Es-selam alekoum, ya Habib habiby!" It was the salutation in the plural to Habib, and to the angels that walk, one at either shoulder of every son of God.
And they were the eyes of any woman the eyes of his bride, of his sister, his mother, the eyes of his mothers a thousand years dead. "Master!" they said. They were pushing him forward by the elbows, Mohammed and Houseen. He opened his eyes. The crowd swam before him through the yellow glow. Something had made an odd breach in his soul, and through the breach came memories. Memories!
"He did not," said Gallagher, "but he stood there looking at the houseen with the tears rolling down the cheeks of him " "What?" said Dr. O'Grady, "do you mean to tell me he cried?"
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