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.”

Shems-ud-dÌn smiled at the description; and their talk continued in a pleasant strain till, having crossed a dry torrent bed in the wady, they began to ascend.

They had lost sight of the city all save the walls, which ran along the top of the rocks above them. Shems-ud-dÌn’s face fell sad once more, as he mused upon the mystery of fate, and the uncertainty of what awaited him up there within.

Lepers and other beggars, seated beside the broad, made road, howled to them for alms. Men with donkeys and mules and camels passed up and down before them. The toll of a mighty bell echoed among the stony hills—the bell of the Resurrection, explained Zeyd ebn AbbÂs, calling the Nazarenes to prayer. Everything announced their approach to a great city such as few of them had seen in all their lives. Shibli’s excitement knew no bounds. He kept galloping on in front and returning to tell what he had seen, asking answerless questions, laughing and shouting like one possessed.

“Stop! Stop, I say! Are you deaf, all of you? What do you, wearing arms, so great a company? Show your teskerehs before I let you pass.”

A soldier stood out before them in the gate of the city, while two more issued yawning from the guardhouse.

Shems-ud-dÌn proffered his teskereh, but the sentry scouted it.

“That allows you to travel; good. By what authority do you travel armed like soldiers?”

“Look hither. Canst read?” said Hassan loftily; and he held out a copy of that old firmÀn naming him Guardian of the Frontier, which he was in the habit of carrying about to confute the skeptical.

“What is this?”

“Canst thou not see? It bears the TÛghra, the handmark of Power.”

“Is it some antique?”

“Dog! Dost scoff at the hand of the Padishah? Let pass, or thy punishment shall be horrible. Know that we have with us a greater man than thou ever sawest in all thy life of sin——”

“Is it this man?” broke in the soldier impudently, pointing with his finger at Zeyd, the son of AbbÂs, who, on his miserable donkey, in his ragged clothing, cut the sorriest figure imaginable.

“Pig!” snarled Hassan. “I will ride thee down!”

“Have the kindness only, and thy punishment is sure. Once in there, thou and thy friends are caught in a box.”

“Deign but to listen. Knowest thou one Abd-ur-Rahman Bey, a yezbashi of the garrison?”

“Of course. What is that to thee?”

“I will tell thee. This holy sheykh beside me is his father. Now let pass.”

“Gently, gently, O my uncle. That is good, what thou sayest—excellent—I ask no better. Only—I do not believe it. He of whom thou speakest is a great one. Everything is known about him; yet I never heard that he owned a father living, much less do I look to see his father riding up from nowhere in the midst of a crew of rascals without proper teskerehs—Ma sh’ Allah!”

The final exclamation was uttered in a frightened whisper. The speaker stood back hastily with his comrades, sprang to attention, and presented arms.

The road described a right angle under the gateway, so that no one standing without could see through into the street. The guard had stood for some seconds rigid, nosing their rifles, ere he whom they thus honored could be seen of Shems-ud-dÌn. Even then, in the young officer advancing toward him, one white-gloved hand on his sword hilt, not running nor manifesting the slightest emotion, he was slow to recognize his only son.

Abd-ur-Rahman came to his father’s stirrup and kissed his hand with the same formality which had marked his approach. He murmured:

“Welcome, and twice welcome, O my father.”

At sound of his voice a cry went up from within the litter close at hand; but Abd-ur-Rahman seemed not to hear it.

“Thou didst receive my letter,” said Shems-ud-dÌn, as they passed in beneath the massive gateway.

Abd-ur-Rahman, still at his stirrup, answered:

“In this hour I received it. It should have been delivered to me last night, but for the obtuseness of the doorkeeper at the house where I dwell. As to thy question concerning Frank physicians, I know nothing of the matter. I inquired on my way hither, and have learnt that there exists a hospital kept by one of them. Thou wilt find its direction written on this paper, as also that of a khan where thou mayst find room enough. What was told thee regarding the present fullness of the city concerns not the Muslim quarter. I hope that my sister will be soon healed, and that thou wilt be blest in thy stay here. Now, with permission, I must leave thee. I will seek thee after noon at the khan.”

“Allah be with you now and always, O my son.”

As he watched Abd-ur-Rahman stride off down a side street of many arches, Shems-ud-dÌn wondered what it was that so oppressed his soul.