“Madame,” he said, “I am about to die, and I am glad to be allowed to say adieu to you. Very often have I thought of you and of your life among us. I feel a very grave responsibility. I trust that you have been, upon the whole, content?”

Barakah declared herself quite happy, and he said, “Thank God!”

“But you will not leave us yet; you will recover,” she exclaimed.

“No, no, my cherished daughter. My last hour has sounded. I have lived to see my lifework all undone. The Christians always sought a war with El Islam. We kept a calm face under insults, even made concessions, as one gives a rabid dog a stick to worry.” For a moment the worn face resumed its light of humour. “But now the war has come.⁠ ⁠… Those rash fanatics!⁠ ⁠…”

There rose a murmur in the room.

“The Grand Mufti comes,” announced Murjânah Khânum.