“Good; I thank thee,” said Shems-ud-dìn, with dignity. But his soul kept murmuring, “No answer! He sent no answer!” And its voice was as the sea for sadness. Hassan, to cheer him, cried: “Be not downcast, O light of my eyes! Thy son is young, and the way of youth to discretion winds through feasting and carelessness. To-morrow, when he reads thy letter with a clear mind, he will hasten with joy to meet thee. Remember the days that are gone, when thou also wast light of heart.” And all they that sat with them in the room joined with Hassan, saying: “Thy worthy friend speaks truth. The ways of youth are not as our ways. The wisdom of youth is a bird with no nest. Take comfort, O sheykh! Be assured there is nothing wrong.” But Shems-ud-dìn derived no comfort from their sagacity. CHAPTER VII Next morning, before the start, Shems-ud-dìn offered money to the lord of the house; but the old fellâh thrust back his hand. “Is the honor nothing in thy sight? Give a little to my neighbors on account of thy companions, and my peace with thee.” Shouts of good will went after the departing guests. Shems-ud-dìn’s heart was lighter than on the night before. He neared his journey’s end; Alia seemed no worse; and the shortcomings of Abd-ur-Rahman appeared excusable by daylight. Suddenly, from a hilltop, they beheld the city. Contained in shadowy walls, its roofs clean burnished by the morning sun, it was a sight to catch the breath. The Dome of the Rock, three parts shadowed, bloomed aloof in its noble precinct. Here and there amid the throng of buildings, some little polished surface caught the light and flashed, a diamond. The whole seemed the masterpiece of some worker in silver or ivory, rather than an old city built at divers times by men unknown to one another. Of tacit accord the cavalcade had halted to admire, when a hubbub arose among the Circassians. Two dead fowls had been discovered beneath the cloak of Nesìb—fowls stolen from the village they had just left. Loud were the cries of shame. Hassan struck the thief on the head with the butt of his carbine, stunning the wretch, who would have fallen had not a loving comrade sustained him. He took the birds and gave them to one more trustworthy, with orders to return to the village and pay the price of them. “Oh, the sin! Oh, the shame of it!” groaned Shems-ud-dìn. But Hassan, chancing to overhear, objected, saying: “Be not too sad, O my soul! Nesìb is a thief even as thou art a saint. It is Allah’s will upon him. He has stolen slippers from the gate of a mosque. And he has his uses. Not for nothing do I admit an Arab in my troop. There are but two of them now among us, Nesìb and one Ali, the friend of Nesìb. Nesìb would not join without Ali, and Nesìb is so useful that we accepted Ali, who serves no purpose on earth, but only hangs upon Nesìb. Ah, our Thief is clever! He would steal the food out of your mouth, and your belly none the wiser.”