Bleed him and he'll see! So they bled him, and he did see.By Allah!
yes, for a minute--half a minute! 'Oh, 'Larby,' he cried--I was holding him; then he--he--' 'Larby,' he cried faint, like a lamb that's lost in the mountains--and then--and then--'Oh, oh, 'Larby,'
he moaned Sidi, Sidi, I _paid_ that bleeder--there and then--_this_ way!
That's why I'm here!"
It was a lie, but 'Larby acted it so well that his voice broke in his throat, and great drops fell from his eyes on to Israel's hand.
The effect on Israel himself was strange and even startling.
While 'Larby was speaking, he was beating his forehead and mumbling:
"Where? When? Naomi!" as if grappling for lost treasures in an ebbing sea.And when 'Larby finished, he fell on him with reproaches."And you are weeping for that?" he cried.
"You think it much that the sweet child is dead--God rest him!
So it is to the like of you, but look at me!"His voice betrayed a grim pride in his miseries."Look at me!
Am I weeping? No; I would scorn to weep.But I have more cause a thousandfold.Listen! Once I was rich; but what were riches without children? Hard bread with no water for sop.I asked God for a child.He gave me a daughter; but she was born blind and dumb and deaf.I asked God to take my riches and give her hearing.
He gave her hearing; but what was hearing without speech?
I asked God to take all I had and give her speech.He gave her speech, but what was speech without sight? I asked God to take my place from me and give her sight.He gave her sight, and I was cast out of the town like a beggar.What matter? She had all, and I was forgiven.But when I was happy, when I was content, when she filled my heart with sunshine, God snatched me away from her.
And where is she now? Yonder, alone, friendless, a child new-born into the world at the mercy of liars and libertines.And where am I?
Here, like a beast in a trap, uttering abortive groans, toothless, stupid, powerless, mad.No, no, not mad, either! Tell me, boy, I am not mad!"In the breaking waters of his madness he was struggling like a drowning man."Yet I do not weep," he cried in a thick voice.
"God has a right to do as He will.He gave her to me for seventeen years.
If she dies she'll be mine again soon.Only if she lives--only if she falls into evil hands--Tell me, _have_ I been mad?"He gave no time for an answer."Naomi!" he cried, and the name broke in his throat."Where are you now? What has--who have--your father is thinking of you--he is--No, I will not weep.You see I have a good cause, but I tell you I will never weep.God has a right--Naomi!--Na--"
The name thickened to a sob as he repeated it, and then suddenly he rose and cried in an awful voice, "Oh, I'm a fool! God has done nothing for me.Why should I do anything for God? He has taken all I had.He has taken my child.I have nothing more to give Him but my life.Let Him take that too.Take it, I beseech Thee!"he cried--the vault of the prison rang--" Take it, and set me free!"But at the next moment he had fallen back to his place, and was sobbing like a little child.The other prisoners had risen in their amazement, and 'Larby, who was shedding hot tears over his cold ones, was capering down the floor, and singing, "El Arby was a black man."Then there was a rattling of keys, and suddenly a flood of light shot into the dark place.The Kaid el habs was bringing a courier, who carried an order for Israel's release.Abd er-Rahman, the Sultan, was to keep the feast of the Moolood at Tetuan, and Ben Aboo, to celebrate the visit, had pardoned Israel.
It was coals of fire on Israel's head."God is good," he muttered.
"I shall see her again.Yes, God has a right to do as He will.
I shall see her soon.God is wise beyond all wisdom.
I must lose no time.Jailer can I leave the town to-night?
I wish to start on my journey.To-night?--yes, to-night!
Are the gates open? No? You will open them? You are very good.
Everybody is very good.God is good.God is mighty."Then half in shame, and partly as apology for his late intemperate outburst, with a simpleness that was almost childish, he said, "A man's a fool when he loses his only child.I don't mean by death.Time heals that.But the living child--oh, it's an unending pain! You would never think how happy we were.
Her pretty ways were all my joy.Yes, for her voice was music, and her breath was like the dawn.Do you know, I was very fond of the little one--I was quite miserable if I lost sight of her for an hour.And then to be wrenched away !....But I must hasten back.The little one will be waiting.Yes, I know quite well she'll be looking out from the door in the sunshine when she awakes in the morning.It's always the way of these tender creatures, is it not? So we must humour them.Yes, yes, that's so that's so."His fellow-prisoners stood around him each in his night-headkerchief knotted under his chin--gaunt, hooded figures, in the shifting light of the jailer's lantern.
"Farewell, brothers!" he cried; and one by one they touched his hand and brought it to their breasts.
"Farewell, master!" "Peace, Sidi!" "Farewell!" "Peace!" "Farewell!"The light shot out; the door clasped back; there were footsteps dying away outside; two loud bangs as of a closing gate, and then silence--empty and ghostly.
In the darkness the hooded figures stood a moment listening, and then a croaking, breaking, husky, merry voice began to sing--El Arby was a black man, They called him "'Larby Kosk;"He loved the wives of the Kasbah, And stole slippers in the Mosque.
