For Three Camels

BRAHIM turned to the American. “Soon you will return to your own country. So listen to the moral tale I am about to tell, that you may take back to your own people one lesson, one small lesson which will teach you how to use the manly virtues of honor, self-restraint and piety—virtues in which you unbelievers are sadly deficient. A cigarette, Effendi. Ah, thanks. And now listen to what happened in Ouadi-Halfa between Ayesha Zemzem, the Sheik Seif-ed-din and Hasaballah Abdelkader.

“The Sheik was a most venerable man, deeply versed in the winding paths of sectarian theology and of a transcendent wisdom which his many disciples declared to be greater than that of all the other sheiks—greater even than the wisdom of the supereminent Mohammad ibn Idreesesh-Shafeiy'ee, of whom even you feringhees must have heard.

“But the Sheik's beard was scanty and of a mottled color. He was not overclean in spite of the fact that as a most holy man—aye, a Sheik el Tarika—he was supposed to be most rigorous in his daily ablutions. He had grown fat and bulky with years of good living. Tell me, Effendi, should not a holy man e well so that he may reach a ripe age and so that many growing generations may drink the clear drops of honeyed piety which fall from his lips? Besides, to compensate for the many piasters he pent on himself, he tightened the strings of his waistband when it came to paying the wants of his many-headed household, saying that it was his duty as a Moslem to train his sons and the mothers of his ms in the shining virtue of abstemiousness, and asking them to repeat daily the words in the book of the Koran: 'Over-indulgence is a most vile abomination in the eyes of Allah.'

“His first two Muslimas had grown gray, and his old heart yearning for the untaught shyness of youth, he had taken as third wife Ayesha Zemzem, the daughter of the morning. My dear sir, do not ask me to describe her many charms. My chaste vocabulary could never do her justice. Besides, do you not know that our women go decently veiled before strangers? Thus who am I to know what I am not permitted to see? Suffice it to say that she was a precious casket filled with the arts of coquetry, that she was tall and slender as the free cypress, that her forehead was as the moon on the seventh day and her black eyes taverns of sweetest wine.

“But the heart of woman acknowledges no law and respects no master except the one she appoints herself, and so it was that Ayesha had no love for the Sheik in spite of his white sanctity and though he knew the Koran and all the commentaries by heart. And then one day she saw Hasaballah Abdelkader—and her veil dropping by chance, he saw her.

“Hasaballah had but lately returned from the famed city of Stamboul, that asylum of learning and splendor. He had come back dressed in robes of state, and when he donned his peach-colored coat embroidered with cunning Persian designs in silver and blue, the men in the bazaar looked up and exclaimed: 'Look at him who with his splendor shames the light of the midday sun!' He was indeed a Stambouli, a true Osmanli for all his Bedaw blood, and the soft fall of his large Turkish trousers which met at the ankle, the majestic lines of his silken burnous, the bold cut of his famed peach-colored coat were the despair of all the leading tailors in Ouadi-Halfa and the envy of all the young bloods. His speech was a string of pearls on a thread of gold. He walked lithely with a jaunty step, and swaying gently from side to side. He was a fresh sprung hyacinth and the master of many hearts.

I said that Ayesha saw him and that her veil chanced to slip, and you, Effendi, you know the heart of woman—and of man. You will not be shocked when I tell they drew the sword of Love and threw away the scabbard of Precaution, and that the following night you could have seen Hasaballah leaning against the wall in the shadow of the screened balcony which protruded from the Sheik's harem—and there he warbled a little love ditty which I had taught him.

“Eh? How? Why did I—” Ibrahim laughed. “I am Hasaballah's friend and in his confidence, and he had shown me the little song which he had composed and which he was going to sing to her. It was really too extravagant—he insisted on addressing Ayesha as 'blood of my liver.' No, no, Effendi. The time to woo a woman is when you first see her, and the way to woo her is the old-fashioned. Flatteries never grow old, and I always use the time-honored similes. I tell her that she is as beautiful as the pale moon on the fourteenth day, that her walk is the walk of the king goose, that the corners of her mouth touch her pink ears, that she has the waist of a lion and that her voice is sweeter than the song of the kokila bird.

“'But permit me to continue my tale.

“That night Hasaballah and Ayesha knocked at my gate, and touching my knee, asked me for hospitality and protection, which I granted them, having always been known as the friend of the persecuted. And early the following morning the Sheik came to my house and I received him as an honored guest.

“After partaking of coffee and a pipe, he said: 'Ibrahim, last night when I went to the women's quarter to join my female household in their midnight prayers, the weeping slaves told me that Ayesha had run away. Great was my grief and fervent my prayers, and when sleep at last closed my swollen eyelids I saw in my dreams the angels Gabriel and Michael descend from Heaven. They took me on shining wings into the seventh hall of Paradise, and there I saw the Messenger Mohammed, on whom be praises, sitting on a throne of emeralds and pearls and judging men and jinn And Mohammed, peace on him, said to me: “Go thou in the morning to the house of my beloved and obedient servant Ibrahim Fadlallah, where thou shalt find Ayesha and with her a certain good-for-nothing young scoundrel whom thou shouldst carry before the Cadi and have punished with many painful lashes.” Thus, O Ibrahim, obeying the commands of the blessed Prophet, on whom peace, I ask you to give up to me Ayesha and Hasaballah, that I may kill the woman and have the man beaten according to the merciful law of the Koran.'

“And I replied: 'Oh, most pious of pilgrims, your tale is strange indeed, though amply corroborated by what I am about to relate. For last night, after the fugitives had asked me for protection, I also prayed fervently to Allah—indeed, He has no equals—and in my dreams the angels Gabriel and Michael took me on widespread wings into the seventh hall of Paradise, even into the presence of the Messenger Mohammed, on whom be benedictions. And Prophet, deepest peace on him, said to me: “Ibrahim, when the learned and pious Sheik Seif-ed-din visits you in the morning, tell him that I have reconsidered my decision; that he should leave Hasaballah and Ayesha undisturbed and that he should accept two camels in payment of her.'”

“The Sheik pondered a while and replied: 'Verily it says in the most holy book of the Koran that Allah loveth those who observe justice, and that the wicked who turn their backs on the decisions of the Prophet, on whom peace, are infidels who shall hereafter be boiled in large cauldrons of very hot oil. Now tell me, Ibrahim, are you sure that last night the Prophet, peace on him, didn't say that I should accept four camels, not two, in payment of the bitter loss inflicted on my honor and dignity? Indeed, for four camels, Hasaballah may keep the woman, provided the animals be swift-footed and of a fair pedigree.' “Thus, O my eyes, I thought that bargaining is the habit of Jews and Armenians, and I sent word to Hasaballah to send three camels to the Sheik. And everybody was happy, everybody's honor was satisfied and there was but little scandal and no foul-mouthed gossip to hurt the woman's reputation.

“I have told you, Effendi, how we Moslems, being the wisest of mankind, settle affairs of honor and love. Tell me, do you not think that our way is better than your crude Christian method airing such matters in a public court of law and announcing to a jeering world the little details of harem life and love misplaced?”

The he American replied:

“No, I think yours a disgraceful way of bargaining for a few camels where the shame of a misled woman and the honor of an outraged husband are in the balance. In my country, as you say, the whole affair would have been aired in court and considered from every possible point of view, thus giving the defendant, the plaintiff and the co-respondent equally fair chances. The judge finally, according to our strict though humane law, would have pronounced a divorce decree in favor of the Sheik and would have sentenced Hasaballah to pay to the Sheik a heavy fine, a fine of many thousands of dollars.”

And Ibrahim said languidly:

“But, Effendi full of wisdom, you have no camels in your country.”