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Updated: May 1, 2025
But when he would have taken it away, the little hand still clung, though the eyes were scarce opened upon life. "See, Mahommed Selim," Soada cried, "he would go with thee." "He shall come to me one day, by the mercy of God," answered Mahommed Selim. Then he went out into the market-place and gave himself up to the fat sergeant.
It would have been well for Wassef the camel-driver if he had not taken the turban from his head, for before he could reach Yusef with his dagger, he went down, his skull cracking like the top of an egg under a spoon. Thus it was that Soada was left to fight her battle alone. She did not weep or wail when Wassef's body was brought home and the moghassil and hanouti came to do their offices.
That night Mahommed Selim and Soada the daughter of Wassef the camel- driver were married, but the only fantasia they held was their own low laughter over the child. In the village, however, people were little moved to smile, for they knew that Mahommed Selim was a deserter from the army of the Khedive at Dongola, and that meant death.
He had mischievously sent him into that furnace which eats the Fellaheen to the bones, and these bones thereafter mark white the road of the Red Sea caravans and the track of the Khedive's soldiers in the yellow sands. When Fatima cursed Wassef he turned and spat at her; and she went back and sat on the ground beside Soada, and mumbled tags from the Koran above her for comfort.
But Soada, as her time drew near and the terror of it stirred her heart, cast restless eyes upon the whitewashed walls and rough floors of the hospital. She longed for the mud hut at Beni Souef, and the smell of the river and the little field of onions she planted every year. Day by day she grew harder of heart against those who held her in the hospital for to her it was but a prison.
But no one told Soada this, and she did not think; she was content to rest in the fleeting dream. "Give them twenty-four hours," said the black-visaged fat sergeant of cavalry come to arrest Mahommed Selim for desertion. The father of Mahommed Selim again offered the Mamour a feddan of land if the young man might go free, and to the sergeant he offered a she-camel and a buffalo. To no purpose.
No man in the village dare tell you, for you have no friends, but I tell you, that you may save Soada before it is too late. Mahommed Selim lives; or lived last quarter of the moon, so says Yusef the ghaffir. Sell your ten- months' camel, buy the lad out, and bring him back to Soada." "Saadat!" said Wassef, in a quick fear, and dropped the stem of the narghileh, and got to his feet.
Nor did his anger cease thereafter, for this meal of meat had cost him five piastres the second meal of meat in a week. As Wassef sat on the mastaba of the cafe sullen and angry, the village barber whispered in his ear that Mahommed Selim and Soada had been hunting jackals in the desert all afternoon.
In spite of all, Soada had been the apple of his eye, although he had sworn again and again that next to a firman of the Sultan, a ten-months' camel was the most beautiful thing on earth. He was in a bitter humour.
Then she ate greedily the food which Soada should have eaten; snatching scraps of consolation in return for the sympathy she gave. The long night went, the next day came, and Soada got up and began to work again. And the months went by.
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