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.”