He had become familiar with the Druses around Beirut. There was something in the hard independent tribesmen that reminded him of the Ulster Scot. Aloof, unafraid, inimical, independent, with a strain of mysticism in them, they were somehow like the glensmen of Antrim. Fairly friendly with the Moslems, contemptuous of the Latin Christians, impatient of dogma, they might have been the Orangemen of Syria. Their emirs had a great dignity and a great simplicity, like an old-time Highland chief. They acknowledged God, but after that their faith ran into esoteric subtleties of nature-worship, which they kept to the initiates among themselves.... And the common run of them had strange legends, as that in a mountain bowl of China lived tribe on tribe of Druses, and that one day these of Syria and of China would be reunited and conquer the world.... They were very dignified men, and muscular.... Their women had the light feet of gazelles ... One only saw their sweet low foreheads, their cinnamon hands.... They claimed they were Christians sometimes, and other times they said they were Moslems, but the truth no stranger knew.... A secret sect, like the ancient Assassins, who had the Old Man of the Mountain for their king.... With them dwelt beauty and terror and the glamour of hidden things.... To Shane they were very kindly. They recognized him for a mountain man born, and for an honest man. They could not understand him, as a Christian, seeing he took no part in Greek or Latin politics. They decided he must have some faith of his own.... He did them some kindness of errands, and they were very hospitable to him.... In '61, after the massacres, when the tribesmen were preparing to retreat to the mountain of the Druses, he returned to find Syria occupied by the troops of Napoleon III and to hear that his friend Hamadj Beg of Deir el Kour was dead in the war.... He went to condole with the family.... Arif Bey, Hamadj's brother, was preparing to retreat toward Damascus.... "Arif Bey," Campbell suddenly said, "also this, I seek a wife." "Yes." The grizzled Druse scratched his head, and looked at him keenly. "I am making Lebanon my home; therefore I don't want a wife of my country. There is no people sib to me here but the Druse people.... Would a Druse woman marry me?" "I--I see nothing against it." "Do you know a Druse woman who would have me?" "Well, let me see," Arif said. "There is Hamadj's daughter, Fenzile." "Is she young, Arif Bey?" "Not so young, nineteen, but she is a mountain woman and lasts." "Is she good-looking?" "Yes, she is very good-looking." "Is she kindly?" "Yes, yes, I think so." "Is she wild?" "No, She is very docile." "You trust me a lot, Arif Bey." "Yes, we trust you much." "And I trust you, Arif Bey.... Will Fenzile marry me?" "Yes," Arif Bey decided, "Fenzile will marry you." Section 8