GhandÛr, had borne the summons to the Frankish doctor. Having delivered it, he wandered to the Pasha’s house. A creature witless save for love, existing by it, the kindness shown him by the lady Barakah had raised her to the throne of YÛsuf in his mind. Her freak of walking had imparted to his sentiments that touch of pity for one too innocent to face the world which makes of service an angelic trust. He blamed himself for the adventure. When he heard that she was in disgrace and looking wan, he beat his breast. Now that she was like to die through his demerits, his grief was such as caused him actual pains.

Upon arriving at Muhammad Pasha’s house, before he could divulge his woe, he was informed:

“The lady Fitnah has been asking for thee. Go indoors, and wait while they announce thee!”

He was standing in the hall, cocooned in sorrow, when a mob of children burst through the mabeyn, as the great screen which bounds the women’s realm is called, and fell upon him.

“Oh, GhandÛr, where hast thou been?”—“I have a new tarbÛsh.”—“The bitch beneath our windows has five puppies—blind, by Allah’s mercy! Come and see!”—“My doll! Like a daughter of Adam—a bride arrayed—a virgin—almost a sin for thee to look on! Come and see!”

Half weeping as he was, GhandÛr responded; and, unaware of his preoccupation, the children led him towards the women’s doorway.

“Go in as far as to the second screen—no farther!” said the eunuch there on guard.

GhandÛr was careful to obey; but his attendant imps, regarding all authority as ground for sport, banded together suddenly and dragged him on. He shook them off and drew back quickly; the eunuch came and scattered them with swishing cane; and then the children, tumbling over one another, began to fight among themselves with fearful insults.

“By my maidenhood, I swear to kill thee and devour thy liver!” screamed out a girl of eight to a small boy who pushed against her.

“I will ravish thee, abandoned one, and then eject thee on a dunghill!”

The lady Fitnah from behind the screen cried out for order, naming Hamdi, her own son, as probably the cause of tumult. The eunuch fell upon that wayward, dreamy adolescent, whom GhandÛr did his utmost to protect, for he was YÛsuf’s brother; while Fitnah KhÂnum asked what sin she had committed to be punished with a boy so lazy and so mischievous. She cared for Hamdi, but without indulgence. Her love was made a whip-lash for his good. At last came silence, and GhandÛr poured forth his grief.

“O Lord, have mercy! Woe upon us all! O most gracious lady, rare pearl of beauty and refinement, companion of my dearest lord and brother! Behold the glory of our house is in the dust.”

“By Allah, in the dust! Thou sayest truly!” scoffed the lady Fitnah. “It is of that very business that I wish to speak with thee. What is the truth about her walking in the dust, thou who wast with her? Is it true that she had been alone with Frankish men? Was no man following—didst thou look well?—when she walked off alone, rejecting thee? Was not her chin upon her shoulder, and her gaze behind her, ogling? Did I not well to rail against that marriage? Now it is clearly proven that she has no modesty.”

“O my despair! O evil day! The fault is mine!” cried out GhandÛr, beside himself. “Blame not her Grace; she is the noblest lady—as innocent as is a babe; she thinks no evil. O bitter grief! O Allah! O calamity!”

“Now Allah heal thee! It is plain she has bewitched thee too. She is for all men, like the rest of her foul race—for strangers, servants, donkey-drivers, even scavengers! Pray, pray to God till I bestow on thee a charm of power!”

“Hush! Let him speak! Let GhandÛr tell his story!” cried a second voice. GhandÛr became aware of other ladies pressing to the screen. He lifted up his voice and wept.

“O lady, speak no bitterness against her. She lies this moment at the point of death. Our house is as a tomb, a haunt of ominous owls. My lord the Pasha frowns and looks distressful; my lord YÛsuf weeps as if his heart would break. I myself have been to call a Frankish doctor, who, on reading my lord’s message, rode off like the wind. Allah knows the dear one may be dead this minute!”

He buried his face in his hands, while a hubbub of concern arose behind the screen.

“O poor darling floweret! O despair!” wailed YÛsuf’s mother, all her feelings turned right round. “What is her illness? Quick, describe! May Allah heal her!”

“Fever—the worst sort!”

“I go at once to her.”

A sick-nurse of experience in charms and nostrums, the lady Fitnah always quickened to the scent of illness and adored the sufferer. From a creature hardly to be named by modest lips, the wife of YÛsuf was become the apple of her eye Having sent an order for the carriage, she went through her store of medicines, discoursing wisely to the other ladies; while GhandÛr, retiring, heard from the attendant eunuch:

“Thou hast done it! We had word of this; SawwÂb was summoned. But the command was, not to tell the ladies.”

He could only shrug.

Illness, like death and birth, was woman’s great occasion, when, guarding the traditions, she stood forth as priestess. The whole harÎm was in a flutter of excitement.

“Gulbeyzah must come with us,” pronounced Fitnah KhÂnum, “because our poor sick darling always loved her.”

The ladies Fitnah and MurjÂnah, the Pasha’s widowed sister and two nieces, goodly persons, together with the well-grown, plump Gulbeyzah, and a bundle of medicaments, including a whole plant of garlic and a donkey’s thigh-bone, were all packed somehow into one close carriage. The sun was setting when they reached the pleasure-house. The eunuch went to herald their arrival; and all the ladies, nothing doubting of their glad reception, freed themselves from the crushed mass they formed together. They were shaking out and smoothing crumpled raiment when the messenger returned to say they were refused admittance by the doctor’s orders. The ladies stood stone-still and looked at one another. Fitnah KhÂnum broke the silence.

“This is our son’s house! May Allah slay the doctor! Come, my sisters!”

Just then SawwÂb, chief eunuch of the guard, appeared, and barred the entrance with the word “Forbidden!”

“Whose order, say?”

“The order of our lord.”

“Praise to Allah! That is better than the doctor. To hear is to obey, though Allah knows that the command is wicked and against religion. Tell thy master we shall lay a case before the CÂdi.”

With this menace, which afforded her some satisfaction, Fitnah KhÂnum turned back towards the carriage; and the work of packing those redundant bodies was performed anew.

“Heard one ever the like? To hide our dearest from us at the point of death! To keep a mother from a daughter’s sick-bed—a woman from a woman! O Protector!”

The incident, when known, incensed the harÎm world. The sick-room had been woman’s temple from of old. To be forbidden access to the bedside of a near relation appeared an outrage, even to the calm MurjÂnah. The indignation of the slaves was riotous. The injured ladies received many visits of condolence, when Fitnah KhÂnum’s lamentations were applauded as the voice of right.

“O cruelty,” she sobbed. “To keep us from our darling, when she has most need of us! The Frankish doctors are all monsters, hearts of stone. It is known that they snatch dying people from their friends, to practise on them, omitting even to return the bodies afterwards. They may have skill, but many things they know not, being infidels. The pain I suffer when I think of that sweet girl—the very liver of my darling YÛsuf—lying senseless, an empty house for any demon to inhabit, and not a charm put up for her protection, is excruciating!”

It is characteristic of the harÎm life that, though the ladies were thus irritated, near rebellion, no clear word of their grievance reached the Pasha’s ear. There is a wall between the women and the man more real than the mabeyn screen which man erected. The women raise it to secure their privileges; the man, if he perceives it, cannot throw it down. His anger meets with a subservience which foils its aim as surely as loose sheets will stop a bullet. Even MurjÂnah, who adored the Pasha, kept the harÎm secret.

Fitnah KhÂnum had foretold that Barakah would die, thanks to the ministrations of the Frankish doctor. When she heard that she was fast recovering, she gave praise to Allah, who had saved her life in spite of them. From wishing well to the sick woman, she had grown to love her with all the strength of her impulsive, loyal nature.

The love she bore to YÛsuf was eclipsed. His neglect of her for weeks was scarcely noticed. When at last he did appear, haggard but joyful, her “Praise to Allah” was upon his wife’s account. She made him tell her every detail of the doctor’s treatment, and vowed it was a miracle the girl survived it. From him she learnt the reason of the Pasha’s deference to every edict of that ignoramus. The English Consul had his eye upon the house, watching to note that all was done correctly.

“Consume the Consul!” she exclaimed peremptorily.

“Our Lord consume him utterly!” said YÛsuf. “Yet for one boon I have to thank him. My father, to propitiate him, gives command that I shall visit Paris in the summer with my bride.”

“Allah forbid!” his mother screamed in horror. “Our pearl of pearls to be exposed to vulgar handling, to be cast back into the mire from which she was with pains extracted! Thou wilt not suffer her to go unveiled? For shame, O YÛsuf! To let foul infidels survey thy secret joy.”

“Nay, she will veil her face as the Frenchwomen use.”

“Those veils are nothing, for the mouth is visible.”

“Our ladies wear them in that country to avoid publicity. Be reassured, my mother; we shall guard the decencies. My father grumbles greatly at the cost, but vows that he will show the Consul we are not fanatical. We go to see the dog tomorrow, to tell him all that we have done for her.”

But on the morrow YÛsuf and his father met with cruel disconcertion. The Consul welcomed them and listened to their story with politeness, but at its end he murmured blandly:

“I altogether fail to see how this concerns me, though highly honoured by your visit and your confidence. The lady is, no doubt, extremely fortunate.”

Muhammad Pasha, flushing hotly, licked his lips as might a panther, and glanced sidelong at his son. He offered a profusion of excuses as he rose to go. The Consul answered, “Always charmed!” and smiled them out.

“May the All-Powerful corrupt his bones and blind him! May the All-Merciful frustrate his heart’s desire!” exclaimed the Pasha as the two regained their carriage. “It seems he has deceived us, has renounced all claim. Here have I spent more than I can afford—coined money, hard to come by—what with her establishment, this doctor and the nursing, and that trip to Paris, which cannot now be dropped, for I have boasted of it; and lo! the dog cares nothing for my trouble. May his limbs rot off!”

“May Allah cut his life!” said YÛsuf savagely.

The women never heard that tale of shame.