“I know not. It is not my line of business. And yet, I bethink me, there is art in it,” muttered the sorcerer, relenting visibly⁠—“much art, for she is the most skilful witch on earth; and no one else in Masr, under Allah, could hope to overcome her⁠—Ha! What is this?” He raised his hand to his right ear, and stood intently listening, as if to something just above him in the air. “I thank thee, O Tarshûshak!⁠—What is this?” He turned to Fitnah with a mien of righteous anger. “My servant tells me she has islamed. Is that true? If so, why not inform me at the first? My time is wasted. If she has islamed it is a crime most heinous to assail her. May Allah⁠—”

“Mercy! O my uncle, mercy!” Both the women flung themselves upon the wizard, stopping his mouth and dragging down his arm upraised to curse them. “Wait but a moment! Only listen! They say that she has islamed, being all bewitched. She has not gone through all the ceremonies. She refuses, and our lord the Pasha, by her spells, supports her. Whether or no, she weds today my firstborn son, and she is barren and will keep him from all other women. Thou shalt have much wealth.”