"But it is foolish to be so anxious. Masa is fond of going out to the sea to listen to the murmuring and whispering of the waves. My child is pious, and may have gone to the mosque to pray and to thank Allah. That is it--she has gone to the mosque."The sheik rushes out into the street. It is well that the mosque is not far from his dwelling. The doors are open; Masa is surely there, probably on her knees in one of the recesses, addressing herself to her prayers. No, she is not there; the recesses are empty, and she is not up in the choir with the women either.
"She is nowhere in the mosque; but she may be down on the beach."The sheik no longer felt the weight of his years, he no longer felt exhausted by the fatigues of the preceding day.
He is young again, and his blood is coursing through his veins. With head erect and firm footstep he walks down to the beach.
"Masa, my child, come to me; hasten to your father's arms!" he cries; so loudly that his voice drowns the noise of the rushing waves. But no one replies. Masa is not there.
A wild cry of terror resounds from his lips, he sinks down upon the shore exhausted, and stares out at the waves as though he would ask, "Have you seen my child; has she gone to you; has she sought a resting-place in your cold bosom?" Yet why should she do so? Masa is happy and loves her father, why does she then torment him thus? Masa must have gone to some of her neighbors. She has many friends; every woman and girl that Masa knows loves her on account of her happy disposition, her innocence, and her loveliness. She will have returned home long since. Djumeila cannot know that her master has gone out, or she would have called him.
"Masa is surely at home!"
The old man returns to his dwelling with the quick step of a youth.
Djumeila is standing in the door-way, weeping and lamenting loudly "Master, my child, my Masa, is gone! Allah be merciful, and take me from this earth, now that my Masa is no longer here!"The sheik says not a word. He neither speaks nor weeps, but only beckons to the men who have been drawn to the spot by Djumeila's loud lamentations. When they have come near, he bends down close to them, as if to prevent even the wind from hearing him, and whispers in their ears: "My child is gone. Masa is not in the mosque. Masa is not on the beach, and is not with the neighbors!"The men regarded him with dismay; and, supposing they must have misunderstood his words, ask each other, "What did the sheik say?"He then shrieks, as if to make himself heard by the heavens and the earth, by the mountains and the sea: "My child is gone! Masa is not in her father's house, Masa is not at the mosque, and not on the beach! Where is my child?"He then swoons away. Djumeila now rushes down the street, and her cries of anguish resound through all Praousta.
"Masa, the sheik's daughter, has disappeared! Where is Masa? Up, ye men and women, let us search for her. Let us search everywhere--among the rocks and cliffs, in the hills and in the valleys. Masa, the sheik's daughter, is gone!"From every house, men, women, and children, rush out and gaze at each other in sorrow and dismay. "Masa, our sheik's daughter, has vanished! let us search for her." And now they begin the search.
People are to be seen running in every direction--to the rocks above, down to the shore. The air everywhere resounds with their loud cries:
"Masa, daughter of the sheik, where are you?"Suddenly the music of the trumpet, cymbal and fife, and the roll of the drum, breaks in upon and mingles with these tumultuous cries.
With warlike music the company of soldiers from the nearest city marches into Praousta, in accordance with the command given by the governor to his captain.
The men have been on the march all night, and now enter the village in the broad light of day, with their band playing.
