“Wallahi, they are warriors,” one orator was declaiming at a street corner. “The fight was far away at daybreak, and now behold them here among us in the citadel. Wallahi, they are mighty! They smite hard⁠—one blow and all is said. Wallahi, they are not of those who loiter. They appeared among us like a vision of the rising night; they demanded the keys of our strong places as of right divine. The people in the street stood still and gaped on them, rubbing their eyes to ascertain that they were not asleep. May Allah make them merciful. The praise to Allah!”

The donkey-boy, who had been looking at the lady’s eyes at frequent intervals as if in expectation of a change of purpose, asked at length:

“Whither shall I conduct thee, O my mistress? Is it not thy wish to return to the house?”

“I have no house,” was her reply. “Did I not tell thee? To the El Afîfi cemetery!”