Part 29 (1/2)

Naomi broke down at last. Next morning at dawn, kneeling among men in the Grand Mosque in the Metamar, she repeated the Word after the Iman: ”I testify that there is no G.o.d but G.o.d, and that our Lord Mohammed is the messenger of G.o.d; I am truly resigned.”

Then she was taken back to the women's apartments, and clad gorgeously.

Her child face was wet with tears. She was only a poor weak little thing, she knew nothing of religion, she loved her father better than G.o.d, and all the world was against her.

CHAPTER XXIII

ISRAEL'S RETURN FROM PRISON

Such was the method of Israel's release. But, knowing nothing of the price which had been paid for it, he was filled with an immense joy.

Nay, his happiness was quite childish, so suddenly had the darkness which hung over his life been lifted away. Any one who had seen him in prison would have been puzzled by the change as he came away from it.

He laughed with the courier who walked with him to the town gate, and jested with the gate porter as with an old acquaintance. His voice was merry, his eye gleamed in the rays of the lantern, his face was flushed, and his step was light. ”Afraid to travel in the night? No, no, I'll meet nothing worse than myself. Others _may_ who meet me? Ha, ha!

Perhaps so, perhaps so!” ”No evil with you, brother?” ”No evil, praise be G.o.d.” ”Well, peace be to you!” ”On you be peace!” ”May your morning be blessed! Good-night!” ”Good-night!” Then with a wave of the hand he was gone into the darkness.

It was a wonderful night. The moon, which was in its first quarter, was still low in the east, but the stars were thick overhead, making a silvery dome that almost obliterated the blue. Rivers were rumbling on the hillside, an owl was hooting in the distance, kine that could not be seen were chewing audibly near at hand, and sheep like patches of white in the gloom were scuttling through the gra.s.s before Israel's footsteps.

Israel walked quickly, tracing his course between the two arms of the Jebel Sheshawan, whose summits were visible against the sky. The air was cool and moist, and a gentle breeze was blowing from the sea. Oh! the joy of it to him who had lain long months in prison! Israel drank in the night air as a young colt drinks in the wind.

And if it was night in the world without, it was day in Israel's heart.

”I am going to be happy,” he told himself, ”yes, very happy, very happy.” He raised his eyes to heaven, and a star, bigger and brighter than the rest, hung over the path before him. ”It is leading me to Naomi,” he thought. He knew that was folly, but he could not restrain his mind from foolishness. And at least she had the same moon and stars above her sleep, for she would be sleeping now. ”I am coming,” he cried.

He fixed his eye on the bright star in front and pushed forward, never resting, never pausing.

The morning dawned. Long rippling waves of morning air came down the mountains, cool, chill, and moist. The grey light became tinged with red. Then the sun rose somewhere. It had not yet appeared, but the peak of the western hill was flushed and a raven flew out and perched on the point of light. Israel's breast expanded, and he strode on with a firmer step. ”She will be waking soon,” he told himself.

The world awoke. From unseen places birds began to sing--the wheatear in the crevices of the rocks, the sedge-warbler among the rushes of the rivers. The sun strode up over the hill summit, and then all the earth below was bright. Dewdrops sparkled on the late flowers, and lay like vast spiders' webs over the gra.s.s; sheep began to bleat, dogs to bark, kine to low, horses to cross each other's necks, and over the freshness of the air came the smell of peat and of green boughs burning. Israel did not stop, but pushed on with new eagerness. ”She will have risen now,” he told himself. He could almost fancy he saw her opening the door and looking out for him in the sunlight.

”Poor little thing,” he thought, ”how she misses me! But I am coming, I am coming!”

The country looked very beautiful, and strangely changed since he saw it last. Then it had been like a dead man's face; now it was like a face that was always smiling. And though the year was so old it seemed to be quite young. No tired look of autumn, no warning of winter; only the freshness and vigour of spring. ”I am going to see my child, and I shall be happy yet,” thought Israel. The dust of life seemed to hang on him no longer.

He came to a little village called Dar el Fakeer--”the house of the poor one.” The place did not even justify its name, for it was a cinereous wreck. Not a living creature was to be seen anywhere. The village had been sacked by the Sultan's army, and its inhabitants had fled to the mountains. Israel paused a moment, and looked into one of the ruined houses. He knew it must have been the house of a Jew, for he could recognise it by its smell. The floor was strewn over with rubbish--cans, kettles, water-bottles, a woman's handkerchief, and a dainty red slipper. On the ragged gra.s.s in the court within there were some little stones built up into tiny squares, and bits of stick stuck into the ground in lines. A young girl had lived in that house; children had played there; the gaunt and silent place breathed of their spirits still. ”Poor souls!” thought Israel, but the troubles of others could not really touch him. At that very moment his heart was joyful.

The day was warm, but not too hot for walking. Israel did not feel weary, and so he went on without resting. He reckoned how far it was from Shawan to his home near Semsa. It was nearly seventy miles. That distance would take two days and two nights to cover on foot. He had left the prison on Wednesday night, and it would be Friday at sunset before he reached Naomi. It was now Thursday morning. He must lose no time. ”You see, the poor little thing will be waiting, waiting, waiting,” he told himself. ”These sweet creatures are all so impatient; yes, yes, so foolishly impatient. G.o.d bless them!”

He met people on the road, and hailed them with good cheer. They answered his greetings sadly, and a few of them told him of their trouble. Something they said of Ben Aboo, that he demanded a hundred dollars which they could not pay, and something of the Sultan, that he had ransacked their houses and then gone on with his great army, his twenty wives, and fifteen tents to keep the feast at Tetuan. But Israel hardly knew what they told him, though he tried to lend an ear to their story. He was thinking out a wonderful scheme for the future. With Naomi he was to leave Morocco. They were to sail for England. Free, mighty, n.o.ble, beautiful England! Ah, how it shone in his memory, the little white island of the sea! His mother's home! England! Yes, he would go back to it. True, he had no friends there now; but what matter of that?

Ah, yes, he was old, and the roll-call of his kindred showed him pitiful gaps. His mother! Ruth! But he had Naomi still. Naomi! He spoke her name aloud, softly, tenderly, caressingly, as if his wrinkled hand were on her hair. Then recovering himself, he laughed to think that he could be so childish.

Near to sunset he came upon a dooar, a tent village, in a waste place.

It was pitched in a wide circle, and opened inwards. The animals were picketed in the centre, where children and dogs were playing, and the voices of men and women came from inside the tents. Fires were burning under kettles swung from triangles, and sight of this reminded Israel that he had not eaten since the previous day. ”I must have food,” he thought, ”though I do not feel hungry.” So he stopped, and the wandering Arabs hailed him. ”Markababik.u.m!” they cried from where they sat within.

”You are very welcome! Welcome to our lofty land!” Their land was the world.

Israel went into one of the tents, and sat down to a dish of boiled beans and black bread. It was very sweet. A man was eating beside him; a woman, half dressed, and with face uncovered, was suckling a child while she worked a loom which was fastened to the tent's two upright poles.

Some fowls were nestling for the night under the tent wing, and a young girl was by turns churning milk by tossing it in a goat's-skin and baking cakes on a fire of dried thistles crackling in a hole over three stones. All were laughing together, and Israel laughed along with them.

”On a long journey, brother?” said the man.

”No, oh no, no,” said Israel. ”Only to Semsa, no farther.”