Two days later, as Shems-ud-dìn sat meditating beneath a fig tree on the hill of ruins, shrouded horsemen came riding out of the east. His eyes made out twenty of them, each armed with a long lance whose point glanced in the sunlight, each well mounted on a prancing steed. Then, remembering the veiled words of Hassan relative to the tribute, he descended in haste to the town. Standing at the junction of two narrow ways, he saw the foremost of the cavaliers ride up to the sheykh’s door, before which a few children seemed to loiter. The sheykh came forth, crying welcome, and offering his house by a gesture. The leader jumped down and made fast his horse to a stone of the wall. His followers also alighted, tethering their steeds in like manner. They all entered the house with friendly words to its owner. No sooner were they gone than from every dwelling beside the way, out of every lane, poured soldiers and armed Circassians. The throng prevented Shems-ud-dìn from seeing what happened after. But a fearful din arose; shrieks, curses, laughter mingled with the clash of arms. He stopped his ears. The sky above the hovels turned black in his sight, the houses livid white, a grin beneath frowning brows. Presently, one came running blindly, moaning as he ran—a man well stricken in years, no other than the sheykh himself. A tall, slim girl ran after him, barefoot and weeping, her veil displaced. Shems-ud-dìn caught the old man’s hand and ran with him till the town was left behind. There the frenzied wretch broke from him, and flung himself down in a place of stones, dashing his face upon hard rocks, cursing the day that he was born. Shems-ud-dìn and the girl raised him up between them, and in so doing their eyes met. She bethought her of her veil; in haste she dragged the white lawn across her face, while the little pout of annoyance in self-consciousness became her well. It seemed to Shems-ud-dìn that he had gazed once more in Leylah’s eyes—profound as a night of stars when no moon rises. Despite all attempts to calm him, the sheykh went on shrieking and tearing his raiment. He plucked off his turban and adherent tarbûsh, and cast them from him, exposing his naked poll to the sun of noon. “Allah witness, I was forced to it!” he yelled madly. “The sons of Eblìs forced me to betray my good lords. They sat as guests in my house when the soldiers took them. Their horses are stolen, they themselves taken to serve in the army. O Lord!... Allah knows the deceit was forced on me. Hassan—may his father perish!—swore to slay my three sons if I refused. We had peace till he came. Now we shall never know peace any more. For our lords of the desert will avenge this outrage. The Circassian pigs will not suffer, for they have no property. But we ... O Lord! Would to God I were dead and in the tomb!”