At that Ben-Aboo stopped suddenly, and his swarthy face grew hideous and awful.Then, pointing with one shaking hand at the farther end of the patio, he said, "There is another thing that is true.
It is true that on the other side of that wall there is a prison," and, lifting his voice to a shriek, he added, "you are on the edge of a gulf, Israel ben Oliel.One step more--"But just at that moment Israel turned full upon him, face to face, and the threat that he was about to utter seemed to die in his stifling throat.If only he could have provoked Israel to anger he might have had his will of him.But that slow, impassive manner, and that worn countenance so noble in sadness and suffering, was like a rebuke of his passion, and a retort upon his words.
And truly it seemed to Israel that against the Basha's story of his ingratitude he could tell a different tale.This pitiful slave of rage and fear, this thing of rags and patches, this whining, maudlin, shrieking, bleating, barking-creature that hurled reproaches at him, was the master in whose service he had spent his best brain and best blood.But for the strong hand that he had lent him, but for the cool head wherewith he had guarded him, where would the man be now? In the dungeons of Abd er-Rahman, having gone thither by way of the Sultan's wooden jellabs and his houses of fierce torture.
By the mind's eye Israel could see him there at that instant--sightless, eyeless, hungry, gaunt.But no, he was still here--fat, sleek, voluptuous, imperious.And good men lay perishing in his prisons, and children, starved to death, lay in their graves, and he himself, his servant and scapegoat, whose brains he had drained, whose blood he had sweated, stood before him there like an old lion, who had been wandering far and was beaten back by his cubs.
But what matter? He could silence the Basha with a word; yet why should he speak it? Twenty times he had saved this man, who could neither read nor write nor reckon figures, from the threatened penalties of the Shereefean Court, and he could count them all up to him;yet why should he do so? Through five-and-twenty evil years he had built up this man's house; yet why should he boast of what was done, being done so foully? He had said his say, and it was enough.This hour of insult and outrage had been written on his forehead, and he must have come to it.Then courage! courage!
"Husband," cried the woman, showing her toothless jaw in a bitter smile to Ben Aboo as he crossed the patio, "you must scour this vermin out of Tetuan!""You are right," he answered."By Allah, you are right! And henceforth I will be served by soldiers, not by scribblers."Then, wheeling about once more to where Israel stood, he said in a voice of mockery, "Master, my lord, my Sultan, you came to resign your office?
But you shall do more than that.You shall resign your house as well, and all that's in it, and leave this town as a beggar."Israel stood unmoved."As you will," he said quietly.
"Where are the two women--the slaves?" asked Ben Aboo.
"At home," said Israel.
"They are mine, and I take them back," said Ben Aboo.
Israel's face quivered, and he seemed to be about to protest, but he only drew a longer breath, and said again, "As you will, Basha."Ben Aboo's voice gathered vehemence at every fresh question.
"Where is your money?" he cried; "the money that you have made out of my service--out of me--_my_ money--where is it?""Nowhere," said Israel.
"It's a lie--another lie!" cried Ben Aboo."Oh yes, I've heard of your charities, master.They were meant to buy over my people, were they? Were they? Were they, I ask?""So you say, Basha," said Israel.
"So I know!" cried Ben Aboo; "but all you had is not gone that way.
You're a fool, but not fool enough for that! Give up your keys--the keys of your house!"Israel hesitated, and then said, "Let me return for a minute--it is all I ask."
At that the woman laughed hysterically."Ah! he has something left after all!" she cried.
Israel turned his slow eyes upon her, and said, "Yes, madam, I _have_ something left--after all."Paying no heed to the reply, Katrina cried to Ben Aboo again, saying, "El Arby, make him give up the key of that house.
He has treasure there!"
"It is true, madam," said Israel; "it is true that I have a treasure there.
My daughter--my little blind Naomi."
"Is that all?" cried Katrina and Ben Aboo together.
"It is all," said Israel, "but it is enough.Let me fetch her.""Don't allow it!" cried Katrina.
Israel's face betrayed feeling.He was struggling to suppress it.
"Make me homeless if you will," he said, "turn me like a beggar out of your town, but let me fetch my daughter.""She'll not thank you," cried Katrina.
"She loves me," said Israel, "I am growing old, I am numbering the steps of death.I need her joyous young life beside me in my declining age.
Then, she is helpless, she is blind, she is my scapegoat, Basha, as I am yours, and no one save her father--""Ah! Ah! Ah!"
Israel had spoken warmly, and at the tender fibres of feeling that had been forced out of him at last the woman was laughing derisively.
"Trust me," she cried, "I know what daughters are.Girls like better things.No, I'll give her what will be more to her taste.
She shall stay here with me."
