At seven years old Muhammad went to school. It was customary for the scions of great houses to be taught at home by private tutors, but the family council had decreed that so exceptional a child must feel the yoke of public discipline and mix with other boys as soon as possible. The school, just founded by the widow of a former ruler, was reckoned modern, for the simple reason that the scholars learnt geography and history, and handled other books as well as the august Koran.
Ghandûr led off Muhammad every morning, and brought him home at evening through the perils of the streets. Barakah’s thoughts were with him all day long; she liked to guess at his employment at a given moment; while Umm ed-Dahak painted flattering pictures of his skill in learning, the astonishment of all his masters at his brilliant genius.
When she was driven out to pay her calls, Barakah arranged beforehand with the eunuch that the carriage should pull up before the school. Then through the shutter she would watch the iron screen which filled each window-arch and listen to the drone of children’s voices.