THE MEETING ON THE SOK
Although Israel did not know it, and in the hunger of his heart he would have given all the world to learn it, yet if any man could have peered into the dark chamber where the spirit of Naomi had dwelt seventeen years in silence, he would have seen that, dear as the child was to the father, still dearer and more needful was the father to the child.Since her mother left her he had been eyes of her eyes and ears of her ears, touching her hand for assent, patting her head for approval, and guiding her fingers to teach them signs.
Thus Israel was more to Naomi than any father before to any daughter, more to her than mother or sister or brother or kindred;for he was her sole gateway to the world she lived in, the one alley whereby her spirit gazed upon it, the key that opened the closed doors of her soul; and without him neither could the world come in to her, nor could she go out to the world.Soft and beautiful was the commerce between them, mute on one side of all language save tears and kisses, like the commerce of a mother with her first-born child, as holy in love, as sweet in mystery as pure from taint, and as deep in tenderness.
While her father was with her, then only did Naomi seem to live, and her happy heart to be full of wonder at the strange new things that flowed in upon it.And when he was gone from her, she was merely a spirit barred and shut within her body's close abode, waiting to be born anew.
When Israel made ready to go to Shawan, Naomi clung to him to hinder him, as if remembering his long absence when he went to Fez, and connecting it with the illness that came to her in his absence;or as seeming to see, with those eyes that were blind to the ways of the world, what was to befall him before he returned.
He put her from him with many tender words, and smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead, as though to chide her while he blessed her for so much love.But her dread increased, and she held to him like a child to its mother's robe.And at last, when he unloosed her hands and pushed them away as if in anger, and after that laughed lightly as if to tell her that he knew her meaning yet had no fear, her trouble rose to a storm and she fell to a fit of weeping.
"Tut! tut! what is this?" he said."I will be back to-morrow.
Do you hear, my child?--tomorrow! At sunset to-morrow."When he was gone, the terror that had so suddenly possessed her seemed to increase.Her face was red, her mouth was dry, her eyelids quivered, and her hands were restless.If she sat she rose quickly; if she stood she walked again more fast.Sometimes she listened with head aside, sometimes moaned, sometimes wept outright, and sometimes she muttered to herself in noises such as none had heard from her lips before.
The bondwomen could find no-way to comfort her.Indeed, the trouble of her heart took hold of them.When she plucked Fatimah by the gown, and with her blind eyes, that were also wet, seemed to look sadly into the black woman's face, as if asking for her father, like a dog for its master that is dead, Fatimah shed tears as well, partly in pity of her fears, and partly in terror of the unknown troubles still to come which God Himself might have revealed to her.
"Alas! little dumb soul, what is to happen now?" cried Fatimah.
"Alack! girl," said Habeebah, "the maid is sickening again."And this was all that the good souls could make of her restless agitation.
She slept that night from sheer exhaustion, a deep lethargic slumber, apparently broken once or twice by troubled dreams.When she awoke in the morning at the first sound of the voice of the mooddin, the evil dreams seemed to be with her still.She appeared to be moving along in them like one spell-bound by a great dread that she could not utter, as if she were living through a nightmare of the day.
Then long hour followed long hour, but the inquietude of her mood did not abate.Her bosom heaved, her throat throbbed, her excitement became hysterical.Sometimes she broke into wild, inarticulate shouts, and sometimes the black women could have believed, in spite of knowledge and reason, that she was muttering and speaking words, though with a wild disorder of utterance.
At last the day waned and the sun went down.Naomi seemed to know when this occurred, for she could scent the cool air.Then, with a fresh intentness, she listened to the footsteps outside, and, having listened, her trouble increased.What did Naomi hear?
The black women could hear nothing save the common sounds of the streets--the shouts of children at play, the calls of women, the cries of the mule-drivers, and now and again the piercing shrieks of a black story-teller from the town of the Moors--only this varied flow of voices, and under it the indistinct murmur of multitudinous life coming and going on every side.
Did other sounds come to Naomi's ears? Was her spiritual power, which was unclogged by any grosser sense than that of hearing, conscious of some terrible undertone of impending trouble?
Or was her disquietude no more than recollection of her father's promise to be back at sunset, and mere anxiety for his return?
Fatimah and Habeebah knew nothing and saw nothing.All that they could do was to wring their hands.
Meantime, Naomi's agitation became yet more restless, and nothing would serve her at last but that she should go out into the streets.
And the black women, seeing her so steadfastly minded, and being affected by her fears, made her ready, and themselves as well, and then all three went out together.
"Where are we going?" said Habeebah.
"Nay, how should I know?" said Fatimah.
"We are fools," said Habeebah.
It was now an hour after sunset, the light was fading, and the traffic was sinking down.Only at the gate of the Mellah, which, contrary to custom, had not yet been closed, was the throng still dense.
A group of Jews stood under it in earnest and passionate talk.
