The sun had risen now; the lamps were useless; the city of the dead was blushing like the rose; the chanting of the readers in the tomb had lost its sadness. Barakah was staring at the strange old woman’s face, now plainly visible. Where had she known it? Feature for feature, it resembled one which had been long imprinted in her memory. Umm ed-Dahak grinned when she became aware of this perplexity. With a very roguish look for one so old, she laid her cheek upon her open palm and whispered, “Yûsuf! Come!” It was the same old creature who, luring the future bride of Yûsuf from her chamber in Muhammad Pasha’s house, had been seized and beaten by the eunuchs in the hall, and never seen again until this day.

“Rememberest thou?” she slyly asked. “Allah witness, I was tempted with a bribe. Young men are devils! Never ask me to explain. I cannot bear to be reminded of it, may Our Lord forgive me! We are all weak creatures and succumb occasionally; but Fitnah Khânum will assure thee I am to be trusted.”