The whole harem knew Umm ed-Dahak as a joker. Slaves from outside were always coining pretexts to enter the apartment, just to look at her; and the more frivolous among the ladies came to hear her stories.

“I am for them a comical performance, not a child of Adam,” she told Barakah. “How different from thy kindness, O my sovereign lady! Thy gracious condescension feeds and clothes me.”

Therewith she kissed the hand of Barakah, who was affected. By such small means did she confirm her sway.

Her intelligence, her laughing view of life, were stimulating, and prevented Barakah from brooding upon hopeless problems.