rst meeting, when David had kept on his hat
and offered Kaid his hand.

Now, with amusement in his eyes, Prince Kaid watched David coming up the
great hall. What his object was in summoning David for an hour when
all the court and all the official Europeans should be already present,
remained to be seen. As David entered, Kaid was busy receiving salaams,
and returning greeting, but with an eye to the singularly boyish yet
gallant figure approaching. By the time David had reached the group, the
Prince Pasha was ready to receive him.

"Friend, I am glad to welcome thee," said the Effendina, sly humour
lurking at the corner of his eye. Conscious of the amazement of all
present, he held out his hand to David.

"May thy coming be as the morning dew, friend," he added, taking David's
willing hand.

"And thy feet, Kaid, wall in goodly paths, by the grace of God the
compassionate and merciful."

As a wind, unfelt, stirs the leaves of a forest, making it rustle
delicately, a whisper swept through the room. Official Egypt was
dumfounded. Many had heard of David, a few had seen him, and now all
eyed with inquisitive interest one who defied so many of the customs of
his countrymen; who kept on his hat; who used a Mahommedan salutation
like a true believer; whom the Effendina honoured--and presently
honoured in an unusual degree by seating him at table opposite himself,
where his Chief Chamberlain was used to sit.

During dinner Kaid addressed his conversation again and again to David,
asking questions put to disconcert the consuls and other official folk
present, confident in the naive reply which would be returned. For there
was a keen truthfulness in the young man's words which, however suave
and carefully balanced, however gravely simple and tactful, left no
doubt as to their meaning. There was nothing in them which could be
challenged, could be construed into active criticism of men or things;
and yet much he said was horrifying. It made Achmet Pasha sit up
aghast, and Nahoum Pasha, the astute Armenian, for a long time past the
confidant and favourite of the Prince Pasha, laugh in his throat; for,
if there was a man in Egypt who enjoyed the thrust of a word or the
bite of a phrase, it was Nahoum. Christian though he was, he was,
nevertheless, Oriental to his farthermost corner, and had the culture of
a French savant. He had also the primitive view of life, and the morals
of a race who, in the clash of East and West, set