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Updated: May 8, 2025
Familiar with the glories of Saracenic art, no less than with the Norman simplicities of Bec, St. Ouen, and St. Etienne, a pupil of Lanfranc, a friend of Anselm, he had been employed in the monastery of Bec to marshal with the eye of an artist all the pictorial ceremonies of his church. But he was chiefly known in that convent as a weeper. No monk at Bec could cry so often and so much as Gundulf.
As he set his foot upon the lowest of these, a hand fell upon the neck of the man who had been led, and a voice hissed: "Salaam! O Ibrahim the Weeper! Salaam! A 'Hubshi' would speak with thee...." and another hand joined the first, encircling his throat.... "Art thou dead, Dog?" snarled Moussa Isa, five minutes later.... It had gone.
But the hand of Allah intervened and Ibrahim the Weeper lived and died stone blind.... A strange man that poor brother of mine, strong save when his foreign blood and foreign religion arose like poison within him and made him weak.... There was the case of the English Sergeant Larnce-Ishmeet whom he spared and sent into the English lines in the little Border War." "Lance-Sergeant Smith?
"God help us!" said Amyas, clutching his hair, as he looked down upon the beautiful weeper. "What am I to do with her, over and above all these poor heathens?" But there was no time to be lost, and over the cliff he scrambled; while the girl, seeing that the main body of the English remained, sat down on a point of rock to watch him.
Sylvia was no weeper, but as she listened, all the day's happiness which had been pent up in her heart found vent in sudden tears, that streamed down noiseless and refreshing as a warm south rain.
Père Jerome waited a little before replying; then he said, very gently: "I suppose dad muss 'ave been by accyden', Madame Delphine?" The little father felt a wish one which he often had when weeping women were before him that he were an angel instead of a man, long enough to press the tearful cheek upon his breast, and assure the weeper God would not let the lawyers and judges hurt her.
So on the tip of his subduing tongue, All kind of arguments and questions deep, All replication prompt and reason strong, For his advantage still did wake and sleep, To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep. He had the dialect and the different skill, Catching all passions in his craft of will. Once I thought that I had really found Willie Hughes in Elizabethan literature.
But to return to the Subedar-Major. "Peace, fool! Art blind as Ibrahim Mahmud the Weeper," growled that burly Native Officer as the zealous and over-anxious young sentry cried out and pointed to where, in the moonlight, the returning reconnoitring-patrol was to be seen as it emerged from the lye-bushes of the dry river-bed. A recumbent comrade of the outpost sentry group sniggered.
She uttered an inaudible exclamation, drew the weeper firmly into her bosom, and with streaming eyes and choking voice, but yet with majesty, whispered, laying her hand on Aurora's head: "Never mind, my child; never mind; never mind." And Honoré's sister, when she was presently introduced, kissed Aurora and murmured: "The good God bless thee! It is He who has brought us together."
My own sympathies were decidedly with the sentry, for I had fever, and "fever is another man". In any case, hours of peering, watching, imagining and waiting, for the attack that will surely come and never comes try even experienced nerves. "And who was Ibrahim the Weeper, Subedar-Major Saheb?" I inquired of the redoubtable warrior as he joined me.
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