They had sat thus in silence a long while, when footsteps rang without with the noise of something clanking along the flags. The voice of the host rose shrill in an ecstacy of salutation. The next minute his burly form passed the doorway, ushering with profound salaams a Turkish officer in full uniform. “His Excellency Abd-ur-Rahman Bey seeks audience of the illustrious Sheykh Shems-ud-dìn,” he announced with unction, a perceptible increase of respect in his tone. In contrast with his constraint of that morning, Abd-ur-Rahman came forward now with outstretched arms and fell on his father’s neck. Zeyd, the son of Abbâs, stood bowing awhile, but, gaining no notice by his mute obeisance, went out to gossip with the lord of the khan. Abd-ur-Rahman scowled after him. “Who is that person, O my father?” he asked with fastidious lips. “It is a good, poor man, a friend of mine, who accompanies me for love, not gain, yet waits upon my needs like a servant. I recommend him to thy favor, O my son.” Abd-ur-Rahman laughed, between amusement and vexation. “Thou wast ever addicted to strange friendships, O my father. Remember the begging Hâj who came years ago to our house and dwelt there many months in thy love, laughing in his beard. He persuaded thee without a vestige of proof that he was a Hâfiz and most pious, while the town without soon knew him for a drunkard and a cheat, and Hassan Agha drove him forth at the last. When wilt thou learn to distinguish? By my head, I would do much to avoid being seen in the company of him who has just left us; and lo! thou hast sworn brotherhood with him.” Shems-ud-dìn shook his head archly. “It is plain to see, O my dear, in what school thou hast studied. I hear my brother’s voice in every word.” Abd-ur-Rahman smiled. “That may be. But say, O my father, wilt thou not take a little thought for appearances? Out there, in the wilderness, it matters nothing, for all men know thee. But here, in the city, it is different. Here men judge of men with the eyes only; and when one does anything uncommon, there springs up a talk about it, which is not pleasant. It distressed me, at our meeting this morning, to behold thee in so outlandish a company. They are good, faithful men, and our friends, that is known. And perhaps any one of them, seen separately, might pass unheeded. But all together.... As well cry aloud in the market! Already the tale of your arrival is noised abroad; and the mouth of rumor is a dirty fountain; it adds something foul to what it utters. Men speak of thee as a madman, of thy companions as mockers at thy madness. They say that thou hast left thy daughter, my sister, in the power of a certain Frank, a man unmarried and but lately come to the city, of whom nothing is known. Surely that is an idle tale, O my father?”