make out who it was,
but holding the suppliant's hands led him up to the light. "Ma sh'
Allah!" he exclaimed when he identified Iskender; and holding his hands
more tightly, took him to his own house.
There, having sent his wife out on an errand, he called for Iskender's
tale without delay, saying:
"I am much distressed on thy account; for the whole world speaks evil
against thee. It is said that thou hast robbed and slain the English
Emir who trusted thee. A lie, no doubt; but still I fear for thee, for
the common voice outcries the truth down here. Moreover, it is said
that thou hast sworn falsely by the Blessed Sacrament; Yuhanna Mahbub
has vowed to kill thee for it. That is a heinous sin if it be true.
Answer that first, before we proceed further. Art thou indeed so
perjured?"
"No, O our father. By Allah, I swore truly when I said I knew of no
treasure, as will appear from the full confession I now make to thee,"
Iskender answered, with eyes full of tears. He was going to embark
upon his story when the figure of a woman closely shawled appeared
before them in the doorway.
"May Allah reward thee, O our father Mitri," cried his mother, as,
stooping, she kissed the priest's black robe. "In pity save Iskender
from those hounds of hell! All that they speak against him is a lie.
It was the Frank led him astray, not he the Frank. I guessed he would
fly straight to thee, the known friend and protector of the wronged,
and my soul desired to be with him and hear his story."
Relieved of the fear of the missionaries which pervaded her own abode,
she now embraced her son and, sitting beside him, took his hand in hers.
"Proceed with the story, O my son!" said Mitri.
When all was told the woman wept aloud, exclaiming:
"Woe upon us! It is worse than was supposed. Iskender is a loser.
Iskender is most innocent of all men living. Oh, who will show the
truth to those who hate him? He has shown himself a fool--a perfect
fool!"
Therewith she rose to go, explaining that she dared not stay another
minute for fear the ladies of the Mission should go to the house in her
absence, and grow angry and suspicious at not finding her. It was
their usual morning for the visit. Once more she embraced her son,
exclaiming:
"This is upon us from the hand of Allah, unto whom be praise! Yet--by
the Gospel!--I had thought thee more intelligent!"
Having made sure from the threshold that no one from the Mission was
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