Then, having enjoined silence, Yûsuf began to harangue the multitude, without looking, in a manner of abstract reprobation, heedless of the impatience of the consul’s representative and the rising murmur in the court, until an answer was received; when he took breath just long enough to decipher: “As many as you judge fit. The wild beast is bloodthirsty—a danger unless we glut him. At sight of this, tear up.” Upon that, in a few words, he closed his lecture on jurisprudence, which had served its turn. “In mercy let the trial now begin,” murmured the Offense at his side pointedly. “Interrupt not, I beseech thee,” rejoined Yûsuf, giving sting for sting. He could not look upon those true believers he was doomed to wrong. Shame dropped a curtain at the edge of the dais. With eyes downcast upon a chaplet with which his hands kept toying, he asked, “Who accuses?” “I am he,” returned the Christian; “on behalf of the illustrious consul of Her Britannic Majesty, and as representing one Jurjus Mekkuswell, a missionary doctor, who is a British subject.” “Against whom, and of what nature, the accusation?” “Against divers Circassians, colonists, from Jebel Ajlûn, for attacking the house of the hakìm and murdering one Ismaìl, his servant. But principally against the Sheykh Shems-ud-dìn El Attâr, likewise from Jebel Ajlûn, who instigated the said attack, the said murder.” “The Sheykh Shems-ud-dìn El Attâr, is he present in the court?” cried the judge, without looking up from his beads. “Present,” answered a full, clear voice. “Are there any Circassians present in the court?” “No need to ask, O lord! The court is full of them,” murmured the scribe at his feet. “It is well. The accused are before us. Let the English hakìm testify against them.” At that the Christian showed annoyance, calling the demand vexatious, unnecessary. The hakìm had made deposition before the consul, which was quite sufficient. Naturally, after the outrages committed against him, he was not calm enough to appear in public. To what purpose on earth should he come? The crime was indisputable, for it was the talk of the whole city. And the prisoners had made themselves so notorious on former occasions, that any lad out of the street could identify them. The Câdi appeared dissatisfied with the representations of his loathsome colleague. He would not submit without a wrangle. But at length, after prolonged whisperings, he said aloud: “Good. Then what witness have you?” “We have a capital witness—none like him!—a certain vender of cooling drinks, who saw all that befell. He has been examined already before the consul, but is now in this court, at your Excellency’s pleasure. His name is Mûsa. If it please you, hear him.” “Call Mûsa the sherbet seller,” murmured the Câdi wearily; and “Mûsa the sherbet seller” was called on every hand. A Muslim of middle age pushed forward through the crowd. He bent double before the dais. “To hear is to obey, O majesty!”