But when Shibli humbly submitted that they were not come now as pilgrims, but simply in quest of the Sheykh Shems-ud-dìn, that old man put off the divine, exclaiming with interest: “You seek that good man, that marvel of instruction? You are his companions of the road? Then are you entitled to a second welcome from me. You ask, where is he now? Ah, of that I cannot certify you. Within this hour he left me—he and the poor man who cleaves to him, and a white-beard Ethiopian, his servant—saying he would go and visit his daughter’s grave.” “Is the girl then dead and buried?” the Circassians murmured of consternation. “Have you not heard? Like many of our human ills, it is in truth a blessing. For had Allah granted life to that girl, our friend had deemed her rescued by the Frank, and so been confirmed in an error of which I strove oft to disabuse him, namely: that it can be lawful to frequent an obstinate unbeliever and to put faith in him—aye, even a faith beyond that in one’s own kindred, making him the keeper of a young girl that was a virgin, ascribing to him that power of life and death which is the prerogative of God alone. Have we not cause to rejoice that so great and insidious an error is rooted out ere it could corrupt the heart of a man the best that draws breath? “I praise Allah hourly for His compassion in enforcing the argument which I, His humble bondman, could not persuade our excellent sheykh so much as to hear with tolerance. His mind is changed, thanks to Allah! He now owns his sin. In return, I invited him to lead the morning prayer.... Praise to Allah!... But what is here? What wouldst thou?” Zeyd’s wife’s relation, hearing such heavenly words, and weary of forever carrying a pot of dried fruits and a bag of olives, had laid those gifts at the sage’s feet, himself with them in prayer for their acceptance. “What is this? Thou bringest gifts—thou whose speech is of the poorest! The poor inherit the privileges of the rich, who nowadays have forsworn liberality. From the hand of Allah thou shalt get reward. Hereafter thou shalt taste the fruits of paradise, basking in shade, and to the strains of an exquisite music.” “O Glory! O Holiness! I am thy debtor till the Last Day!” cried the fellâh, at so rich a promise. Snuffling, with streaming eyes, he went after the Circassians. Once more they plunged into the city’s stifled ways.