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Updated: September 27, 2025
At the moment of Iskender's entrance, a man named Khalîl was gravely playing English music-hall airs on a concertina, having acquired the art by instruction from an English sailor at Port Said. Iskender advanced self-consciously, knowing himself the hero of the hour. And in the twinkling of an eye the music ceased; he was surrounded.
We shall find it yet, in sh' Allah!" So obliging was his friendliness that he insisted on being a witness of Iskender's baptism upon the morrow. His presence, with the scarlet dust-cloak and the silver-mounted whip, astride of a prancing charger, reflected glory on the little group of peasants who trudged out to the nearest river, the priest with them.
Accused of laziness, of breach of contract, the delinquent hurled back the accusations in Iskender's face. He said he knew his business, and was not going to start without proper orders. The Khawâjah Elias, the responsible dragoman, was away, and might Allah end his life immediately if he set forth without him at the call of a beardless boy. So the truth was out.
A tear fell splash upon Iskender's drawing-book. The house of Karlsberger stood in a hollow of the southern sandhills, only discoverable on a close approach, so that the sight of its red roof, something like an extinguisher, came always as a surprise.
They had made an end of eating in there and were now arranging the programme of Iskender's conduct towards the young Emîr. His uncle sat cross-legged by the wall, puffing slowly at a narghîleh, his mother opposite to him, in the same posture, also with a narghîleh, not smoking for the moment, but leaning forward with one hand out, talking eagerly.
At this point Iskender's mother interrupted him with sudden outcry as of one possessed: "Aha, O cruel priest! O soured virgins! Let the son of Costantîn be your dog if he will. My son shall tread on all your faces, the friend of an Emîr." She shook her fist towards the Mission, seen in fierce sunlight through the shadowed doorway. "Hush, woman!" cried Abdullah in an agony.
Iskender began to protest; but just then Selîm, who had been silently working himself into a fury while his brother spoke, sprang up, and snatching the broom from the black servant's hand, discharged it at Iskender's head with all his strength. The son of Yâcûb, by a lucky move, escaped the missile; but seeing the negro stepping forth to recover his broom, stayed to make no retort.
He still had hopes of the person he had first engaged, who appeared at length, but without any mules, and in a state of indignation even greater than Iskender's. The clash of words when they met electrified the whole street; the mouths of the rival muleteers, now mere onlookers, grinned all together, showing milk-white teeth.
"A pity!" sighed Elias, seeming really disappointed. But the next minute, hearing steps upon the stairs, he brightened up, and said in Iskender's ear: "The Emîr descends! Ah, I assure thee by the Holy Gospel, I have news for both of you." The Frank stayed only long enough for salutations, then passed again from sight, going to breakfast.
She was still sitting there, at play with some glass beads, when her father returned. "Praise be to Allah!" exclaimed Mîtri, striding in and sitting down beside Iskender. As soon as he recovered breath, he told his story. He had seen the secretary of the caimmacâm, and from him had learnt that the English consul was Iskender's chief accuser.
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