Zeyd went back into the death chamber, murmured “Peace to the upright!” by the corpse of the kind old negro, and taking Fatmeh by the hand raised her and led her forth. By the outer door of the house stood the weeping maidservant. She opened for them and, as they passed out, struck Fatmeh such a blow beneath the shoulders that she groaned and fell forward, coughing violently. Zeyd thought her stabbed. He turned to take vengeance, but the door was shut. Fatmeh lay upon the cobbles of the narrow lane, groaning and coughing by turns; while Zeyd raised hands of denunciation against that house of sin, calling to Allah for justice upon her murderers. No help, no human form, was at hand. The accustomed seat of the sherbet seller was empty. Soon, however, to his vast relief, Fatmeh rose up, expressing her readiness, and he led her to the khan. It was the heat of the day when no one fares abroad who can help it. Those they met were too indolent to take note of the tousled raiment of a woman or the mad mutterings of a man, who at a glance seemed mere beggars. On arrival at the khan the host put many anxious questions to them out of the kindness of his heart. He was more than repaid by the thrill of Zeyd’s narrative. “Ma sh’ Allah!” he exclaimed at the end. “It is not good to frequent unbelievers. The sheykh—dear, righteous man!—he thought no evil—that is known. And yet it was not good. I myself could have informed him harm would come of it.” He readily undertook to lodge Fatmeh with his own women. While they yet stood talking in the doorway, an ass, saddled and bridled, was led out from the adjoining stable. It was followed by an aged fellâh, who gave a coin to the hostler. The fellâh then bestrode the beast, groaning like a camel with the exertion. Zeyd, recognizing his wife’s sister’s husband’s uncle, hailed him joyfully. “I cannot stay. I have waited long enough,” muttered the donkey rider, in agitation. “Allah knows they may be already at my house, clasping my doorposts, needing my protection. I am old and have no stomach for the fray. Yet they went off bravely, that handful against a whole city. I was proud of their friendship though I slipped away. No doubt but that they have slain the Frank and all belonging to him, and have destroyed his house with fire. They come from wilds wherein vengeance is a sacred right—as it should be, O my son—as it should be. They know not the law of this city which takes no count of religious motives. They will flee from the punishment to my house, and I must be there to shield them if I can.” “Was the riot then so serious, O my uncle? They spoke of it as a jest.” “Hadst thou seen their faces, heard their heartsome shouts as I did, thou wouldst never ask—‘was it serious?’” “Alas, for their wickedness. Very surely they are the worst of men. May Allah destroy the house of every one of them.”