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Updated: June 23, 2025
Then came the inevitable moment of grateful acknowledgment when her senses brought of their best to pay for their indulgence their best on this occasion being that vow to Israfil which presently she found herself renewing. She would indeed be true.
She was a very superior kind of actress, I suspect. And, at any rate, you must have been brought up and educated by somebody. Do tell me, Israfil. I am burning to know." "Your curiosity is quite womanish, Boy." "That is quite the right word," the Boy answered glibly.
"They will photograph you and put you into the shop windows, cabinet size two-and-sixpence. Sounds rather vulgar, though, doesn't it? Savours of desecration, to my mind. But, Israfil, you will certainly be the rage. One so seldom sees a good-looking man!
The kind eyes, the kind caress, the kind thought, 'Angelica, dear' O Daddy! I'm sorry I tormented you sorry, sorry The lonely grave, the lonely grave O Israfil! 'Dead, dead, long dead, and my heart is a handful of dust. The horses' hoofs beat out the measure of my misery. The green leaves rustle overhead. The air is delicious after the rain. The dust is laid.
In Mecca he is poet and visionary, the man who speaks with angels and has seen Gabriel and Israfil, "whose heart-strings are a lute, and who has the sweetest voice of all God's creatures." He penetrates in fancy to the innermost Holy Place and beholds the God of battles, even feels his touch, icy-cold upon his shoulder, and returns with the glow of that immortal intercourse upon him.
"I have already requested you not to mention your sister to me," he said. "I know," was the cool rejoinder. "But I promised on my word of honour to tell you what she calls you. She calls you Israfil Is-ra-fil," he repeated, "the angel of song, you know." But the Tenor made no sign.
Angelica did not attempt to answer this, and there was a pause; then she began again; "I did grasp something of what you mean, I saw for a moment the beauty of holiness, and the joy of it continued with me for a little. Then I went to tell Israfil.
Sometimes, the first effect over, he would remain thoughtful, as if subdued by it; but at others it appeared to have irritated him, and made him aggressively cynical. To-night he was all subdued. "You believe it, Israfil, don't you?" he said. "'He watching' is a fact for you?" The Tenor did not answer, except by folding his hands upon his book again, and looking at the Boy.
Ahead of them, the river was landlocked by a wooded hill; and, also facing them, was an old round tower on the towing-path, above which the round moon shown in an empty indigo sky. "Stop a minute, Israfil," said the Boy, "and turn your head, Who does it make you think of?" "Old Chrome," the Tenor answered, looking over his shoulder. "It is perfect."
Israfil is the name of one whose office will be to sound the trumpet at the Resurrection. Azrael Angel of Death. I am sure that those who read the following and know the East will say that I exaggerate, that under no circumstances or stress of emotion would an Arab so treat a camel, especially the most perfect of her species.
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