Beneath an arched doorway opening on a tunneled way where lurked so deep a shadow that, on emerging thence, the fall of sunlight hurt men’s eyes, sat a fat old man, greasy and no little dirty, making his frugal breakfast of bread and olives. Behind him, through the doorway, basked a little court in sunlight.

His was the quietest, coolest seat in all El CÛds, he was used to boast. Great, therefore, was his consternation when, suddenly deafened with the clatter of many hoofs, he saw his tunnel invaded by a file of armed horsemen so numerous that, peeping forth, he could not see the end of them. At first, being an infidel, he supposed them sent by government to raid the hospital and slay every sufferer. But a further glance convinced him that no such mercy was contemplated. He perceived a close litter borne between two mules. The contrivance had entered the tunnel; it remained to be seen if it would ever get out again. One called:

“Hi, O old man! Is this the Frankish hospital?”

“It is a hospital, that is sure. And it is Frankish in the sense that it is maintained by certain Franks having more money than wits.”

“There is with us a maiden, very ill. We have come from far that she may be healed by the Frank physician. Her nurse is with her in the litter. Let them in, we beseech thee, to the presence of thy lord. We bring gifts, and the father of the girl, that sheykh behind there, is very rich. It will be worth much to thy lord if he can heal her.”

“Are you Jews?”

“Allah forbid!”

“Is the sufferer of that race?”

“Allah forbid! Why askest thou? Why lookest thou so strangely? Art thou, perchance, thyself of the dregs of mankind?”

“What matter for me? I am but the doorkeeper. But all those who pass within to be healed or die, as Allah wills, must be Jews and Jews only. It is the law of the English to whom this house belongs.”

“Ma sh’ Allah! Knowest thou, O old man, that this hospital of thine is a place unclean, a place of sin, no better than a lair of filthy swine?”

“I know nothing. I am the doorkeeper. They pay me monthly wages, and my task is light. I say they are good people. They can do what they please, for me.... It is plain you are from the country, or you would not be surprised and angry at such little things.”

And he smiled the superior smile of the townsman.

“The physician! Ask concerning the physician. I would speak to him without delay,” called Shems-ud-dÌn, pushing his way on foot to the front.

“He will tell you the same which I tell you—only Jews enter here.... But as for a physician—ah, I assure you—he is a physician—none like him under heaven! By Allah, one touch of him cures any disease less malignant than death itself! Go to his house, I advise you; it is not far from here. It is likely he will show mercy to you, for he is a kind young man. Come, I will teach you the way thither. I am the doorkeeper, and cannot quit my post. But perhaps I can find one to guide your honors.... O black man, thou canst never turn those mules in the alley there. Lead through into the court where there is room enough. There they can turn at ease, and the poor, sick lady—may Allah heal her—shall not be inconvenienced. Take care now! OÄh! Heed this little step.”

In a trice the old doorkeeper had become all politeness, espying a silver coin in the hand of Shems-ud-dÌn.

A few minutes later the procession stopped once more before a door, that looked lonely in a place of high blind walls. By that time it was accompanied by a crowd of bare-limbed urchins, beggars, and other idle ones. Zeyd, the son of AbbÂs, as riding upon an ass in the midst of horsemen, and conspicuous for the wretchedness of his apparel, excited particular admiration in these adherents. When he got down off his steed and went to help MÂs unharness the mules from the litter, they thronged about the despondent animal, touched and examined it closely, as it had been of gold.

“Do you covet him, O sons of two walls?” called Hassan, with his mighty laugh. “His beauty is for sale, but the price is a high one. Be careful not to steal him.”

Whereat a grin illumined those dirty faces, and rows of white teeth gleamed forth. One of the Circassians hammered loud upon the door till an old negro looked out in dismay upon their multitude.

“Is the physician within? Here is a girl near to death. We have come from afar, bringing gifts, that the Frank may heal her.”

“Certainly, he is within. Wait a little while, till I inform him of your desire.”

The negro shut the door, but reopened it presently announcing his master’s pleasure to receive them.

“But not all of you,” was subjoined with a grin. “It is a house, not a city. Let those concerned enter, while the rest abide by the beasts.”

“O happy day!” shouted Hassan. “An English physician is the best of physicians. One in Kars preserved the life of thousands. Importune him, pursue him, flatter him; give him no peace till he hear thee; so shall the girl have life instead of death.”

Zeyd, the son of AbbÂs, MÂs, and two of the Circassians bore in the litter, taking each a pole. Through a dim corridor with closed doors on either hand they passed to an open yard, where, by direction of the black doorkeeper, they set down their burden in the sunshine. The pavement of this yard, like the walls and floor of the entrance passage, was so scrupulously clean as to seem of white marble, striking awe into the visitors. Shems-ud-dÌn kept close by the palanquin. A third Circassian followed, both arms laden with the sheaf of gifts. Hassan, misliking the looks of the town-bred rabble, stayed without beside the horses, to keep order; and Shibli, for reasons of his own, stayed with him, though invited by Shems-ud-dÌn to enter.

The litter deposited in the courtyard of the house, the three Circassians proceeded, with the help of Zeyd ebn AbbÂs, to spread out the presents upon the flags so as to be seen to advantage. They were in this occupation when a Frank emerged from a room above them and came slowly down a flight of steps into the court. He was young and of a smiling countenance, very red, after the manner of his kind when sunburnt. His eyes were screwed up against the strong light.

A shout of praise greeted his appearance. All heads were bowed. Shems-ud-dÌn ran to the foot of the stone flight with design to kiss his hand. But the Frank resisted. He repaid their salutations fluently, and, for the rest, spoke in a childish kind of Arabic, easy to comprehend. He asked to know in what manner he could serve them.

Zeyd ebn AbbÂs and the three Circassians raised hands and eyes toward the great blue sky, implying that the gravity of the matter passed human explanation, and required Allah fitly to describe. MÂs, whose custom was to mind his own business, employed himself tranquilly in smoothing down the curtains of the palanquin. Shems-ud-dÌn bowed low before the stranger.

“Know, O renowned hakÌm, that my daughter, who is here with us, lies sick unto death. And it was told me in the place where I dwell, how thou canst heal where all others despair of healing. Wherefore I journeyed hither under escort of these kind companions, bringing the girl my daughter, and certain gifts for thy acceptance, and also a sum of money, that peradventure thou mightst take pity on my daughter and condescend to employ thy skill upon her. O my son, hear the prayer of an old man whose heart is sad, and I will requite thee to the utmost of my means, and Allah, who is more than all of us, will give to thee at the Last Day.”

“Where is the girl?” asked the Frank; and the abruptness with which he put the question, deigning no preliminary compliment, caused the bystanders to say among themselves:

“See how rude he is! He must be conscious of very great ability to be thus short with the revered Shems-ud-dÌn.”

The physician stooped beside the litter.

“O girl, give me thy hand,” he said; causing Zeyd and the Circassians to exclaim the more, saying:

“Surely he is a very great physician.”

“Let see thy face.”

At that Alia uttered a faint scream, and a growl of disapproval came from the four critics.

But Shems-ud-dÌn said simply: “Let it be. She is not yet a woman complete, and Allah knows her face at present is not such as to excite desire. Be not afraid, O my dear,” he added in a soothing tone to the sufferer. “For thy health’s sake, this sacrifice is required of thee.”

One glance at the unveiled brow sufficed the foreigner. He rose again quickly and, turning to the sheykh, shrugged his shoulders with an upward look.

“How far have you carried her in this manner?”

“Four days or five, O khawÂjah.”

For comment the Frank gave another shrug. His face was troubled. The stare of so many eager eyes appeared to irk him.

“She is very near to death,” he said at length, half to himself. “Allah alone can cure her now.”

Whereupon the listeners whispered: “He knows his trade, this heathen! He makes her case out the worst possible, in order that his skill in curing her may appear the more considerable. Yet is he not totally without religion, for he ascribes the chief power to Allah.”

“O sheykh,” pursued the Frank, when he had withdrawn beyond earshot of the occupants of the litter, “what can I do? Am I God that thou bringest to me a dying girl, and sayest, ‘Heal her’?”

Then Shems-ud-dÌn adjured him by the love of Allah, by all things sacred, to have mercy upon Alia, and not to turn away his face from affliction. He said:

“If thou refusest, unto whom, under Allah, can I look for succor? We can but return whence we came, and my girl will die miserably by the roadside, for her strength fails her.”

“That is likely,” the physician was forced to admit; and the thought seemed to pain him. He frowned and put a hand to his forehead, brushing up his hair beneath the extraordinary form of headdress it pleased him to exhibit. “I cannot receive her in my hospital. It is against the rule, and I am but a servant there. But there is another hospital. Go thither.”

Now it was the strength or infirmity of Zeyd ebn AbbÂs, when a spectator, to throw himself into any business with a zeal and enthusiasm surpassing that of the transactors. To him, an excited listener, this curt recommendation of another hospital seemed the last word of arrogance. Feeling the call for a supreme effort at persuasion, he snatched up at haphazard certain of the gifts which strewed the pavement, and ran and laid them at the proud one’s feet, with such earnestness that an earthen pot, which was among them, cracked upon the stones, releasing a sticky greenish fluid.

“O pig! O clumsy one! Woe is me. Thou hast spilt all my honey. May Allah destroy thy house,” roared one of the Circassians, whose present it was.

Then the Frank was seen to smile. O triumph! The Circassians, foremost he whose gift was spoilt, laughed loud for joy of the victory. The Frank smiled; his pride relented; the day was won. To the donor of that honey belonged the glory.

It seemed scarce necessary that the Sheykh Shems-ud-dÌn should continue pleading, demonstrating:

“What know I, O hakÌm, of another hospital? Is it not enough for us, who are honorable men, to be spurned from the gate of one? Who knows that at the other they will receive the girl, my daughter? The one is for Jews only. It is likely the other will be found to be for Nazarenes only. Thou art a great physician, and thy face is kind. Ah, send us not away! Condescend to treat my child. If she dies, it is from Allah. Do thou but what is in thy power to do, and my blessing on thee. I will pay all thou askest.”

Once more the thoughts of the Frank were seen to trouble him. He would not meet the piteous gaze of Shems-ud-dÌn, from whose eyes the tears were now streaming.

“Have you a room?” he asked—“a clean room—very clean—one to which air comes freely, where I could visit her daily, and do what I can for her?”

“Merciful Allah! O my son, have I not said that we are strangers in this city. And a room on this pattern were hard to find. We purpose to lodge at a khan beside the Holy Enclosure.”

“A khan! It must not be,” cried the physician, with more of vehemence than he had hitherto used. “Rather let her remain with the other woman here in my house. And do thou, O sheykh, remain here likewise. As for the others, thy companions, let them go to the khan.”

“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.