“It is my dream,” he whispered. “By Allah it disturbs my nights with cruel pain⁠—to take a lady just like thee in all respects⁠—a Frank and noble, of extreme refinement⁠—back with me to Masr.”

She derided him. He still continued pleading, supporting his petition with the grossest flattery, till they reached home, when Yûsuf suddenly sprang up and glowered at Hâfiz. He had been feigning sleep. It was a thunderbolt. Bedr-ul-Budûr screamed warning to her lord, who gave but a single look and fled indoors, the jealous one pursuing like a madman. In the hall the harmless youth was overtaken and turned round to plead. With a howl of “Dog!” Yûsuf sprang at his throat and bore him to the ground. Like dogs in very truth they fought till parted by the hotel servants with the help of broomsticks; while Barakah strove in vain to make her explanation heard; Bedr-ul-Budûr appealed to Allah and the prophet; and the landlady from the third step of the stairs, with hands and eyes thrown up, exclaimed repeatedly: “ O ciel! C’est monseigneur! ”