The lad had listened to these words in blank bewilderment.  That strange disasters had of late befallen their household was an idea that had forced itself upon his unwilling mind.  But that Israel, the greatest, noblest, mightiest man in the world—­let the dogs of rasping Jews and the scurvy hounds of Moors yelp and bark as they would—­should fall to be less than the least in Tetuan, and, having fallen that he should send him away—­him, Ali, his boy whom he had brought up, Naomi’s old playfellow—­Allah!  Allah! in the name of the merciful God, what did his master mean?

Ali’s big eyes began to fill, and great beads rolled down his black cheeks.  Then, recovering his speech he blurted out that he would not go.  He would follow his father and serve him until the end of his life.  What did he want with wages?  Who asked for any?  No going his ways for him!  A pretty thing, wasn’t it, that he should go off, and never see his father again, no, nor Naomi—­Naomi—­that-that—­but God would show!  God would show!

And, following Ali’s lead, Fatimah stepped up to Israel and offered her paper back.  “Take it,” she said; “I don’t want any liberty.  I’ve got liberty enough as I am.  And here—­here,” fumbling in her waistband and bringing out a knitted purse; “I would have offered it before, only I thought shame.  My wages?  Yes.  You’ve paid us wages these nine years, haven’t you; and what right had we to any, being slaves?  You will not take it, my lord?  Well, then, my dear master, if I must go, if I must leave you, take my papers and sell me to some one.  I shall not care, and you have a right to do it.  Perhaps I’ll get another good master—­who knows?”

Her brows had been knitted, and she had tried to look stern and angry, but suddenly her cheeks were a flood of tears.

“I’m a fool!” she cried.  “I’ll never get a good master again; but if I get a bad one, and he beats me, I’ll not mind, for I’ll think of you, and my precious jewel of gold and silver, my pretty gazelle, Naomi—­Allah preserve her!—­that you took my money, and I’m bearing it for both of you, as we might say—­working for you—­night and day—­night and day—­”

Israel could endure no more.  He rose up and fled out of the patio into his own room, to bury his swimming face.  But his soul was big and triumphant.  Let the world call him by what names it would—­tyrant, traitor, outcast pariah—­there were simple hearts that loved and honoured him—­ay, honoured him—­and they were the hearts that knew him best.

The perilous task reserved for Ali was to go to Shawan and to liberate the followers of Absalam, who, less happy than their leader, whose strong soul was at rest, were still in prison without abatement of the miseries they lay under.  He was to do this by power of a warrant addressed to the Kaid of Shawan and drawn under the seal of the Kaid of Tetuan.  Israel had drawn it, and sealed it also, without the knowledge or sanction of Ben Aboo; for, knowing what manner of man Ben Aboo was, and knowing Katrina also, and the sway she held over him, and thinking it useless to attempt to move either to mercy, he had determined to make this last use of his office, at all risks and hazards.