She had made up her mind that, if the plague drew near, she would carry off her boy to Europe, having no doubt but she could win consent from Yûsuf. But she said nothing of this resolution to the women, knowing they would deem it godless. As a preventive against ophthalmia, she bathed her son’s eyes with cold water twice a day, and gave orders for the flies that settled on them to be brushed away⁠—a thing the slaves would not have thought of doing on their own initiative.

The plague did not come near her; and Muhammad’s eyes continued bright and liquid under long black lashes. An enemy, unfeared as unexpected, struck her joy.

About the period when he was being weaned, Muhammad had a serious illness. An Armenian doctor was called in, who said, “It is the fever.” At that the women wailed and prayed to Allah. The foe was too well known, the scourge of children. There was no need to tell them what to do.