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Iskender was aware of the girl in the sky-blue robe gazing in at the doorway. Her presence added to his ignominy. "No matter! Thou shalt pay the price another time, and in the meanwhile I shall keep this fine umbrella." "Alas, it is not mine!" Iskender wrung his hands. But Mîtri had already withdrawn into the inner darkness of the sanctuary, whence he emerged directly, but without the umbrella.
But the victor could not take much joy in it, for the face of his Emîr still showed nothing but annoyance. If only Mîtri and the rest would now retire, he thought impatiently, he might throw himself at the feet of his dear lord. As it was, he was forced to make his petition lamely, calmly, shorn of all that outward self-abasement which the case demanded.
The sons of Mûsa sat on stools before the door, as did also the priest Mîtri, taking coffee with them. "What news?" they asked. Abdullah hid his face. Could it be that they had not yet heard those wicked lies about Iskender?
Then, with a fervent "God protect us all!" the spell was broken and he hurried out. "A miracle!" cried Mîtri joyously. "Our picture has already scared a sinner." Some one in the room inquired tremulously whether dragons such as that portrayed were still to be found in the world? "No, praise be to Allah!" replied Mîtri.
The youth sat still in dejection, hypnotised by the bright edge of sunlight on the threshold, seeing nothing else. He believed himself alone, when a hand touched one of his a hand as cool and lissom as a serpent's skin. The daughter of Mîtri knelt on the ground beside him. She kissed his hand, and pressed it to her childish bosom. "May Allah comfort thee!" she whispered.
In the shadow, with eyes yet dazzled from the radiance of the tapers he had just extinguished, Mîtri could not make out who it was, but holding the suppliant's hands led him up to the light. "Ma sh' Allah!" he exclaimed when he identified Iskender; and holding his hands more tightly, took him to his own house.
As prearranged with Mîtri, he feigned great surprise at sight of the Emîr, exclaiming: "I thought you said the garden of Elias. This is the garden of Azîz abu Suleymân." "Something queer has happened," said his patron, showing great uneasiness. "These people have been trying to explain to me, but I can't understand them." Iskender looked to the priest for elucidation.
"All right, I'll come," replied Mitri. He understood that he was expected to return the help given the week before by Kumushkir, a man as poor as he was himself, when he was thrashing his own corn with a horse-driven machine. "Tell them I'll come I'll come at lunch time. I've got to go to Ugrumi."
By Allah, I will take that stone again and kill thee with it; for it seems that I am nothing in thy eyes, O misbegotten!" Iskender knew not how to answer, for her reproach was righteous; yet he loved her dearly. He was released from this embarrassment by the return of Mîtri, who had been into the town to visit a sick man. He had drawn quite near before the bickering pair perceived him.
"They quote the Scriptures, it is true," retorted Mîtri, "but without rule or guidance, each in the pride of his own understanding the devils do the same! so that no two Brûtestânts believe alike. They reject all those sacred traditions which lead back to Christ. Their only union is in hatred of the Church. They exist for themselves alone, to the hurt of others, just like stinging insects.
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