She had seen nothing but her father
in Fatimah's protest, just as she had seen nothing but her father in
Habeebah's promises. She did not know what to do, she was such a poor
weak little thing, and there was no strong hand to guide her.
They led her through dark passages to an open place which she thought
she had seen before. It was a great patio, paved and walled with tiles.
Men were standing together there in red peaked caps and flowing white
kaftans. And before them all was one old man in garments that were of
the colour of the afternoon sun, with sleeves like the mouths of bells,
a silver knife at his waistband, and little leather bags, hung by yellow
cords, about his neck. Beside this man there was a woman of a laughing
cruel face, and she herself, Naomi, stood in the midst, with every eye
upon her. Where had she seen all this before?
Ben Aboo had often bethought him of the beautiful girl since he
committed her father to prison. He cherished schemes concerning her
which he did not share with his wife Katrina. But he had hitherto been
withheld by two considerations: the first being that he was beset with
difficulties arising out of the demands of the Sultan for more money
than he could find, and the next that he foresaw the necessity that
might perchance arise of recalling Israel to his post.
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