himself
had refused his services, which so appalled him. He felt like the
spectator of some ghastly crime. Surely no man really in love would
question by what means he got his dear, so only that she was brought to
him with despatch and decency. It was a catastrophe hardly less than
that of the gold. Even in love--the fierce, unreasoning passion of a
youth for a maid--it seemed a Frank must differ from a son of the
Arabs. Once more Iskender had erred in attributing to the Emir his own
sensations, and been punished for it as for an offence unthinkable.
Once more he gazed into a soundless gulf, impossible to bridge; and was
appalled.

Seeing a convenient hollow close before him, he plunged into it, and
had flung himself down to think and fetch his breath, before he knew
that it was already occupied. A sudden burst of music with the strains
of the English National Hymn was the first announcement he received of
the proximity of Khalil, the concertina-player, and of his own uncle
Abdullah.

"Welcome, O Iskender," said Khalil, when the tune had finished with
becoming gravity. "I come out here to play my music undisturbed. And
Abdullah follows me through love of the strange sounds, which soothe
his mind's disease."

"May Allah preserve thee in happiness, O son of my brother!" said
Abdullah gloomily. "But thy folly has brought ruin to my house. Our
Lord destroy those children of iniquity who slandered me in the ears of
Kuk."

"Take heart, O my soul! Be not so downcast!" pleaded the musician, who
was all urbanity, doing the honours of his one accomplishment there in
that lonely hollow of the sands for all the world as though it had been
a fine reception-room, and they his guests. "Stay, and I will play to
you both the air of 'Yenki-dudal'--a noble air, none like it, and of
wide renown. So shall Abdullah cease from brooding on misfortune."

This Frankish music hurrying to an end, of a rhythm monotonous as the
hoof-beats of a galloping horse, seemed very ugly to Iskender. How
different from the delicious waywardness of Eastern airs, whose charm
is all by the bye, in precious dawdlings and digressions! It revealed
to him the mind of his Emir. Gradually, as he listened to it, grief
fell from him; and in its stead rose hatred for a race that measured
all things, even the sweet sounds of music, even love. He remembered
only that his back was sore.

CHAPTER XXVIII

That night Iskender still endured dist