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Updated: May 20, 2025
His first sentiment on the discovery was one of thankfulness, because he had not sworn falsely in his oath to Yuhanna. His next was one of self-abasement before Allah. Was not His mercy boundless, like His power? During the few days which remained before the start, he spent much time in prayer, and offered votive candles to be burnt in Mîtri's little church beneath the ilex-tree.
On a pause he thrust in his question; when the missionary, who had been smiling at a joke of Mîtri's, became of a sudden very grave. "He lies at the gate of death," was his answer. "The doctor doubts if he will pass this night; but if he sees to-morrow's light, it means that he will live, in sh' Allah!" "May Allah preserve the poor young man!" said Mîtri, and resumed the controversy.
Our Blessed Lord knows that and will make allowance for me," was her reply to the accusation of hypocrisy. But she now seconded Mîtri's designs upon Iskender, gratified by the notion of an alliance with the priest's family. "It is different with him," she admitted, "since they have cast him out. Let Iskender follow the guidance of the Spirit.
Returning towards the town, the two friends had to pass the Christian village by the ilex-tree, and the Emîr, who had seen Iskender stoned there, insisted on his sketching the small church, vowing to punish all who dared molest him. Remembering the priest's daughter, he was fain, and went to Mîtri's house to ask for water.
One day, returning from a walk with the Emîr, he heard that the missionary had been inquiring for him in his absence; and the following evening, on the road to Mîtri's house, he was overtaken by the Father of Ice in person, who got down off his horse and addressed him very kindly.
In the kitchen garden, which Mitri had to pass, a girl, clad only in a long shirt, was digging potatoes which she put into a basket. "Where's your grandfather?" asked Mitri. "He's in the barn." Mitri went to the barn and set to work at once. The old man of eighty knew of Mitri's trouble. After greeting him, he gave him his place to feed the machine.
Iskender rose and presented the Emîr, who welcomed the introduction with his ready smile. "So the blessing worked, the praise to Allah!" was Mîtri's comment. He made the Englishman enter his house and drink coffee, then took him into the church. The door stood open. Iskender caught some fragments of the priest's discourse, from which it appeared that he was displaying vestments and a holy relic.
After that Iskender went to the priest's house every evening, and his mother often stole so far to meet him, hurrying, chin on shoulder, in evident terror of pursuit by the missionaries. She endured all Mîtri's reprobations with a shrug, content so long as he allowed her to embrace her boy. "Poor people must eat bread.
On his way to join a horde of Russian pilgrims with whom, by Mîtri's advice, he was to walk for safety, he saw the carriage belonging to the Hotel Barûdi, conveying the two Englishmen to the gate of the town.
The missionary's face grew stern, and his ice-green eyes gave forth a sword-flash. "Well, go your way; God grant it lead not to perdition!" He nodded his head in the direction of the two palm-trees which marked in the dusk the whereabouts of Mîtri's house. Iskender, glancing in the same direction, discerned the tall black figure of the father of Nesîbeh in the road, looking out for him.
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