Our party pursued their way merrily towards Cairo, Mr Thorpe’s impatience to see his beloved pyramids becoming every hour more uncontrollable.

Müller’s canjah^[41] kept company with them, and it had been agreed before they started that he should pass the day on board the large boat and at night sleep on his own; by this means he was enabled every day to dress Hassan’s shoulder according to the advice given him by the medical interpreter.

The voyage was slow, and unaccompanied by incidents of interest to any excepting our friend Demetri, who daily landed at some village to purchase milk, fowls, and a lamb for the party; and as he only put them down in his account at one hundred per cent over the cost price, Mrs Thorpe, instead of complaining of the charges, only expressed her wonder at the cheapness of provisions. We shall not be surprised at the good lady’s satisfaction when we remember that at the period of which we write one hundred eggs were bought for a piastre,^[42] a couple of fowls for the same amount, and a sheep for five piastres.

We may here insert a few leaves from Emily’s journal:—

“We have found the Missionary Müller a great addition to our party; he is the best, and the queerest, and the cleverest creature I ever beheld; he really seems to me to know everything. He has travelled a great deal in Nubia and the adjoining regions, and speaks several of those barbarous languages. His most constant companion on our boat is Hassan. I could not resist asking him the other day, after a conversation which seemed to me to have lasted above an hour, what he could find to interest him so much in Hassan’s conversation, and whether it was about fighting and hunting.

“‘No,’ he replied, with a good-humoured smile, ‘it was about religion.’

“‘Religion!’ I exclaimed in astonishment; ‘I can understand that he should listen to you on such a subject, but I observed that he spoke more and more vehemently than you did yourself.’

“‘True, lady; but I could not blame him, for I attacked, and he defended, his faith. I had before observed in him so much unselfishness, modesty, and such a love of truth that I thought it my duty to try if I might not lead him to the way of truth where we know it to be. With him, as with all true Mussulmans, it is next to impossible. They have got the one great undeniable truth—the Unity of God—so indelibly stamped upon their conviction that any attempt to make them understand, or even consider, the doctrine of the Trinity is attended with such difficulties as amount almost to an impossibility! The words with which Hassan closed our conversation were these: “There is no God but Allah; the days of fighting the Mushrekin and planting the true faith with the sword are gone—now we can only pity them.”’

“‘Who are the Mushrekin?’ I inquired.

“‘The term signifies,’ he replied, ‘those who assign a partner; and it is applied especially to Christians, who, in the estimation of the Moslem, assign in their doctrine of the Trinity two other persons or spirits as partners with the Creator.’

“‘Whence could Hassan,’ I asked, ‘learn to discuss such subjects; has he any learning?’

“‘He has no learning,’ replied Müller; ‘but he knows his Koran well, and reads it constantly. He knows not that all which is most valuable in its moral precepts was taken from our Bible; but his heart is simple, his faith fixed, and his will strong and determined. There is hardly a tribe in the deserts of Southern Africa, or in the islands of the Southern Ocean, where a missionary may not hope for some reward for his labours, but to convert an honest and believing Mussulman is a task almost hopeless.’

“The following day we continued our course up the Nile, passing by a number of villages and palm-groves, and towards evening I resumed my favourite seat on the upper deck, to see the beautiful Egyptian sunset; the Missionary Müller was by me, and interested me much by descriptions of the Soudan. Hassan was quite in the stern of the boat, reciting or chanting in a low voice. I asked Müller if he knew what the young man was repeating, but he could not catch the words, and said, “It is doubtless some old Arab legend.” I felt a great desire to hear a recitation of this kind, and I inquired of the missionary whether he could prevail upon Hassan to repeat it to us.

“He got up and made the request. I could see that some hesitation and difficulties arose; but they were soon overcome, and Müller returned, bringing with him Hassan, who sat down in his old place between me and the rais. Müller said to me—

“‘Hassan desires the young lady to be informed that he is not a ràwi [a teller of stories], but that he knows some old Arab legends. If it pleases her, he will tell the tale of Rabîah. It is,’ added Müller, ‘a legend of great antiquity, and its scene is laid in Arabia.’

“I told him it would give me great pleasure to hear it, so Hassan commenced.

“Although I could not understand a word, it moved me deeply. After the first few lines his faculties seemed all wrapped up in the tale: now the voice was deep and guttural, then it grew soft and sad; then came some scene of anger or strife, and his eyes flashed fire; then came a plaintive tone, which dropping almost to a whisper, suddenly stopped. I felt sure that the hero or the heroine was dead, and the tears actually stood in Müller’s eyes, and the old rais at the helm uttered several sighs, or rather groans, in succession.

“On expressing my vexation that I could not understand the recital, Müller kindly said that he would make me a translation of the tale on the morrow, correcting it from Hassan’s lips.

“Here is the translation of the Arab legend made by Müller:—

“Rabîah.

“Rabîah was feeble, slowly recovering from severe wounds. Who has not heard of Rabîah?—the Lion of the Nejd, whose eyes were like burning coals, whose form was like the at’l (oak), whose voice was as a tempest; before his lance the brave fell bathed in blood, and the timid fled like herds of antelopes.

“When Rabîah came forth to battle and shouted his war-cry, the maidens of the Otèbah wrung their hands, saying, ‘Alas for my brother!’ ‘Alas for my beloved!’ and the mother, pressing her babe to her breast, cried, ‘Oh, my child, wilt thou see thy father to-morrow?’

“Now Rabîah was feeble.

“Some months before he had borne away from the tents of the Otèbah, Selma, the pearl of the tribe; her form was like the Egyptian willow, her face like the full moon in its brightness, her eyes were those of the antelope, and her teeth pearls set between two cushions of rose-leaves, her neck was a pillar of camphor,^[43] and her breasts two pomegranates rivalling each other in rounded beauty.

“But Selma’s eyes were averted, as if in scorn; and while Rabîah was consumed by the fire of love, her heart was a locked casket whose contents none might know.

“The season was spring, and the tribe, with their warriors and tents, their flocks and herds, had moved on to a higher region. Rabîah, retarded by his wounds, had remained behind, keeping with him only a few followers, his sister, and Selma; but anxiety came upon his mind, and he said, ‘Let us go to join the tribe.’

“So they went, the two maidens riding in a musàttah,^[44] and he on a shibriah,^[45] and thus they journeyed, and Rabîah sung in a feeble voice the following words:—

“The maidens heard the song, but Selma spoke not, and his sister wept for his wounds, but more for his unrequited love.

“On the second day they passed a mountain, and, reaching a sandy plain, journeyed slowly across it.

“Suddenly a cloud of dust appeared in the distance, and one of the followers sped on a swift horse to see whence it arose. The maidens trembled like willow-leaves in the morning breeze, but Rabîah slept. The man soon returned with a loosened rein and bloody heel, shouting—

“‘It is a large body of the Otèbah, and they are coming this way; there is no hope of escape; there is neither strength nor power save in Allah!’

“‘Rabîah,’ cried his sister, distracted with fear, ‘canst thou do nothing to save us? Wilt thou see Selma carried off before thine eyes? The Otèbah are coming!’

“At these words Rabîah started up as if from a dream; his eyes shone like two suns.

“‘Bring me my led war-horse,’ he shouted to his men, ‘and fasten on my armour; let us see what enemy dare come near Selma while Rabîah lives.’

“Still while they fastened on his armour his old wounds opened afresh, and the blood trickled from them, and he sang the following lines:—

“When Selma heard these words she turned towards him, and tears dropped from her eyes upon her soft cheek, like dewdrops on a rose.

“‘Rabîah,’ she cried, ‘thy great love hath torn away the veil of pride and deceit from my heart; truly my love is equal to thine; come to my arms, my beloved, let us live or die together.’

“Then the camels were made to kneel, and Rabîah came to the side of her litter, and she cast her arms about his neck, and he kissed her on the mouth, and their lips did not separate till their souls passed into each other, and they forgot the world.

“But the followers cried aloud, ‘Rabîah, the Otèbah are coming!’ and he tore himself from her embrace; and his great war-horse stood beside him stamping on the ground, for his ear caught the tramp of the steeds, and his wide nostrils snuffed the coming fight. None but Tarrad could bear that mighty warrior through the ranks of the foe; he was swift as an antelope, and like an elephant in his strength.

“Now Rabîah’s armour was fastened, and his helmet on his head. He looked once more upon Selma, and repeated the following lines:—

“Then he mounted Tarrad, and took his great spear in his hand, though his limbs were stiff, and his wounds still bled beneath his armour.

“‘Make all speed,’ said he, ‘with the camels to the Horseman’s Gap;^[47] beyond it is the plain where our tribe is encamped; there you will be safe.’

“So they went; and when he saw the Otèbah drawing near, his great heart rose within him; he forgot his wounds, and the fire shot from his eyes. Then he rode towards them, and shouted his battle-cry aloud. Their hearts trembled within them, and none came forth to meet him.

“But Fèsal, the young chief of the band, who was brother to Selma, reproached them, saying—

“‘Are ye men, or are ye sheep, that one hundred are afraid of one? Has he not slain our brethren, and carried away the pearl of our tribe? Now is the hour of revenge.’

“And he went forth at speed to strike Rabîah to the earth with his lance, but Rabîah met him in full career, and warded the blow. With the shock of meeting, Fèsal and his horse rolled together on the ground.

“Then Rabîah wheeled round to slay him, but the young man’s helmet had fallen off, and Rabîah knew his face, and spared him, saying—

“‘Thou art Selma’s brother.’

“Then he charged the band, and he raged among them like a wolf in a sheepfold, and he pierced a strong warrior through the body—the man fell from his horse, and the lance broke. Then they set up a shout of rage and triumph; yet they would not come near him, for he had drawn his limb-dividing sword, so they shot arrows at him from a distance.

“Casting his eyes behind him, he saw that his camels were entering the gap, and he retreated slowly, covering himself from the arrows with his shield; thus he gained the mouth of the defile. There he stood and faced them; and though the arrows showered upon him, and blood was flowing fast down the flanks of Tarrad, he spoke and moved not, but sat still, like a horseman carved in stone in the gap.

“But soon an arrow entering the eye of Tarrad reached his brain, and he fell dead. Then Rabîah lay down behind his horse’s body, covering himself also with his shield, so that they saw him not; but they continued shooting their arrows, until Fèsal, who had mounted another horse, came up and stayed them, saying—

“‘The horse is dead, and Rabîah must now be our prisoner.’

“Then he rode forward with a few followers, and called aloud, ‘Rabîah, yield thyself; escape is now impossible,’ but Rabîah gave no answer.

“Fèsal advanced still nearer, and repeated the same words, adding—

“‘It is useless to shed more blood.’

“But Rabîah gave no reply.

“He approached with the caution of a hunter coming near a wounded lion, till he reached the spot, and looked upon his face.

“Rabîah was dead!

“Then pity took possession of the heart of Fèsal, and having told his followers to place the body of Rabîah and of his horse gently on one side, he galloped alone after the party which had retreated through the gap. He knew that his sister was one; and seeing that they prepared to shoot their arrows, he called to them—

“‘Put away your weapons; this is the hour of grief and not of war.’ And he drew near to the litter, and said—

“‘Sad is the news of my tongue—Rabîah is dead—the Lion of the Nejd is no more.’

“Then a piercing shriek came from the sister of Rabîah, and she cried—

“‘Let us go back to him.’

“Selma spoke not a word; a great stone was upon her heart, and speech and tears were denied her.

“So they turned back; and when they reached the spot there was a dead silence, while the camel was made to kneel down, and the two maidens came forth.

“Rabîah’s sister wept and sobbed, holding her dead brother’s hand; but Selma threw herself on the body of her beloved, and cast her arms about his neck, and again she pressed her lips to his cold lips. None dared to move her, and Allah had mercy upon her, and her soul passed away in that last kiss.

“For many months there was wailing and lamentation among the tribes, and there was peace among them, for war lay buried in the grave where Rabîah and Selma slept side by side.”^[48]