“O my father, what is left to tell? Thou knowest the end of the story, how the shock of thy captivity drove out the devil which had so long possessed me; how I strove, tardily, to repair my fault. Now see, I am the dust before thee. My companions, for whose sake I sinned, now turn from me with sneers and cutting taunts. I am become unclean in their sight. “And now, O my father, learn my firm resolve. I will at once resign my high position and the favor of my uncle, and return with thee to our little town in the wilds, there to end my days in thy peace and in the way of the upright.” “God is Most Great! God is Most Merciful! Unto God the praise!” cried Mâs and Zeyd together from the night without. “I approve not at all,” said Shems-ud-dìn gently, yet with decision, “unless on one condition: that thou remain first a full three months at thy post. If, when that term shall have expired, thy desire be not altered, then come to us; and may Allah grant thee of His blessings!” “But ... O Lord!” moaned Abd-ur-Rahman, in anguish. “My companions—all my acquaintance spurn me. How can I endure for three months the scorn of all around me?” “The scorn will not long survive its cause. And if some things I have heard are true, thou art not all contemptible, my son. Thou art called a zealous, a competent, and a clever officer; and, moreover, I hear it said that thou alone of all thy kind hast been known to refuse a bribe.” “The praise in that is not mine. It belongs, under Allah, to my uncle Milhem, who keeps me so well provided that I require not the gifts of any man. But, O my father! ask me not to endure for three months the sneer of my companions.” “I ask no less, my son. Be brave, O beloved! Consent to reap the harvest of thy sin; so shall it be expiated before Allah, whose wrath is more to be feared than my pain or the looks of thy companions. To-morrow thou wilt present me to the Mutesarrif, to the Chief of the Soldiers, and to all thy friends; and I shall contrive to let fall a word or two to lighten thy offense. Fear not that I shall bring shame or ridicule upon thee. My speech is not that of the fellâh or the muleteer. Afterwards I, in my turn, will present thee to the Chief of the Learned, whose blessing shall sustain thee through the trial. Thy mistake has been always to shun the society of the devout and studious. It is the mistake of my brother Milhem.... Now walk with me to the khan.” “Nay, I beseech thee! I have wept much; I would avoid the stare of strangers.” “I say not, enter with me; but bear me company as far as to the door.” The street seemed light as they came forth to it. Great stars throbbed overhead in a tranquil sky, but the grudging house shapes and frequent arches allowed but a glimpse of them. Mâs stalked in front and Zeyd behind, to kick off the dogs which soon formed a barking phalanx in their wake. Shems-ud-dìn held his son’s hand in a tight clasp. At the entrance of the khan, he embraced him and let him go.