Khaled F. Marion Crawford (best romance novels of all time .TXT) 📖

So they began to exhibit great respect for Almasta, giving her always the best seat amongst them and setting aside for her the best portions of the mutton, and the whitest of the rice, and the largest of the sweetmeats and the mellowest of the old sugar dates, so that Almasta fared sumptuously. But though she understood the reason why the women treated her so much more kindly than before, she was careful always to appear thankful and to speak softly to them, for she feared Zehowah, to whom they might speak of her, and who was very powerful with the Sultan. She was indeed secretly transported with joy, for she loved Khaled and she began to think that before long he would marry her. This was her only motive, also, for she was not otherwise ambitious, and though she afterwards did many evil deeds, she did them all out of love for him.

Though Khaled was by no means softhearted, he could not but pity her sometimes, seeing how she was deceived by his kindness, while he was only making a pretence of preferring her in order to gain Zehowah’s love. Often he sat long with closed eyes while she sang to him or played softly upon the barbat, and he tried to fancy that the voice and the presence were Zehowah’s. But her strange language disturbed him, for there were sounds in it like the hissing of serpents and like choking, which caused him to start suddenly just when her voice was sweetest. For the Georgian tongue is barbarous and not like any human speech under the sun, resembling by turns the inarticulate warbling of birds, and the croaking of ravens, and the noises made by an angry cat. Nevertheless, Khaled always made a pretence of being pleased, though he enjoined upon Almasta to learn to sing in Arabic.

“For Arabic,” he said to her, “is the language of paradise, and is spoken by all beings among the blessed, from Adam, our father, who waits for the resurrection in the first heaven, to the birds that fly among the branches of the tree Sedrat, near the throne of Allah, singing perpetually the verses of Al Koran. The black-eyed virgins reserved for the faithful, also speak only in Arabic.”

“Shall I be of the Hur al Oyun of whom you speak?” Almasta inquired.

“How is it possible that you should be of the black-eyed ones, when your eyes are blue?” Khaled asked, laughing. “And besides, are you not an unbeliever?”

“I believe what you believe, and am learning your language. There is no Allah beside Allah.”

“And Mohammed is Allah’s prophet.”

“And Mohammed is Allah’s prophet,” Almasta repeated devoutly.

“Good. And the six articles of belief are also necessary.”

“Teach me,” said Almasta, laying the barbat upon the carpet and folding her hands.

“You must believe first in Allah, and secondly in all the angels. Thirdly you must believe in Al Koran, fourthly in the prophets of Allah, fifthly in the resurrection of the dead and the last judgment, and lastly that your destiny is about your neck so that you cannot escape it.”

“I believe in everything,” said Almasta, who understood nothing of these sacred matters. “Shall I now be one of the Hur al Oyun?”

“But you have blue eyes.”

“When I know that I am dying, I will paint them black,” said Almasta, laughing sweetly.

“The angels Monkar and Nakir will discover your deception,” said Khaled. “When you are dead and buried, these two angels, who are black, will enter your tomb. They are of extremely terrible appearance. Then they will make you sit upright in the grave and will examine you first as to your belief and then as to your deeds. You will then not be able to tell lies. If you truly believe and have done good, your soul will then be breathed out of your lips and will float in a state of rest over your grave until the last judgment. But if not, the black angels will beat your head with iron maces, and tear your soul from your body with a torment greater than that caused by tearing the flesh from the bones.”

“I believe in everything,” Almasta said again, supposing that her assent would please him.

“You find it an easy matter to believe what I tell you,” he said, for he could see that she would have received any other faith as readily. “But it is not easy for a woman to enter paradise, and since it is your destiny to have blue eyes, they will not become black. The Hur al Oyun, however, are not mortal women and no mortal woman can ever be one of them, since they are especially prepared for the faithful. But a man’s wives may enter paradise with him, in a glorified beauty which may not be inferior to that of the black-eyed ones. If, for instance, Abdul Kerim had lived and been your husband, you might, by faith and good works, have entered heaven with him as one of his wives.”

Almasta looked long at Khaled, trying to see whether he still suspected her, and indeed he found it very hard to do so, for her look was clear and innocent as that of a young dove that is fed by a familiar hand.

“I would like to enter paradise with you,” said Almasta, with an appearance of timidity. “Is it not possible?”

“It may be possible. But I doubt it,” Khaled answered, with gravity.

In those days, while Khaled thus spent many hours with Almasta, Zehowah often remained for a long time in another part of the harem, either surrounded by her women, or sitting alone upon the balcony over the court, absorbed in watching the people who came and went. The slaves were surprised to see that Khaled seemed to prefer the society of the Georgian to that of his wife, but they dared say nothing to Zehowah and contented themselves with watching her face and endeavouring to find out whether