“Now may Allah requite thee, O lord of all kindness!” Shems-ud-dìn raised his tear-stained face to heaven in thanksgiving. “What man of my own faith and nation had done as much for me! May Allah bless thee, exceedingly, and incline thy mind to receive the truth. Thou hast eased me of the heaviest of burdens, for in sooth I was at my wits’ end. For myself, I thank thee; I will but stay to see my beloved at rest ere repairing to the khan. Let there be no offense, I entreat thee. I am an old man, O my son, and my habits are a tree above me; I sit in the shade thereof. Moreover, I am a Muslim, and thou, O my son, art a Nazarene. That which seems clean to thee, to me is abomination; and much that I hold sacred seems dirt to thy mind. Let me have but free access to my dear, and may Allah increase thy wealth! Only, I adjure thee, tempt her not to sin with unclean food, and observe all decency in regard to her.” “My doorkeeper is a Muslim. He shall cook for her, if there be any need of cooking, which I think not likely. And the woman with her will doubtless instruct me when I approach her, lest I offend unknowingly.” “May Allah reward thee.” It took Zeyd ebn Abbâs time to realize that the excitement was over. When he did at length grasp the fact, and his mouth shut from gaping, he did not retire with the Circassians. These walked backward to the entry, shouting blessings on the lord of healing; but Zeyd ran and kissed the hem of Shems-ud-dìn’s robe. “O my master,” he besought, “let me stay by thee, and go when thou goest. Apart from thee I walk in darkness, I am lost. Thy companions make a mock of me.” “But what of thy donkey?” “Let it go. Perhaps they will take it to the khan with the rest. I care not greatly though I lose it, for it is borrowed.” To repay the favor shown to him, Zeyd made himself useful. He helped the servants of the house prepare a chamber on the upper floor, and, when that was ready, lent a hand to Mâs and the other negro in carrying the litter up thither. Though cumbrous it was no longer heavy, being eased of the weight of Fatmeh, who now walked beside. Shems-ud-dìn, alone with Fatmeh, lifted Alia out on the raised Frankish bed prepared for her. The physician had long since gone forth upon the business of his calling. As she sank among the white, soft cushions, she drew a deep sigh. A Nazarene handmaid entered the chamber, bearing milk in a glass, which she offered, saying the master had ordered it. When Alia, upheld by her father, had drunk of it, she licked her lips and fell back upon the pillows. “Art content?” whispered Shems-ud-dìn, bending over her. “It is rest,” she murmured faintly, with closed eyes. CHAPTER IX