Then Israel thought of Naomi, his sweet treasure—­so far away.  Though all else fell from him like dry sand from graspless fingers, yet if by God’s good mercy the lot of the sin-offering could be lifted away from his child, he would be content and happy!  Naomi!  His love!  His darling!  His sweet flower afflicted for his transgression.  Oh! let him lose anything, everything, all that the world and all that the devil had given him; but let the curse be lifted from his helpless child!  For what was gold without gladness, and what was plenty without peace?

Israel lit upon the Mahdi at last in the country of the verbena and the musk that lies outside the walls of Fez.  The prophet was a young man of unusual stature, but no great strength of body, with a head that drooped like a flower and with the wild eyes of an enthusiast.  His people were a vast concourse that covered the plain a furlong square, and included multitudes of women and children.  Israel had come upon them at an evil moment.  The people were murmuring against their leader.  Six months ago they had abandoned their houses and followed him They had passed from Mequinez to Rabat, from Rabat to Mazagan, from Mazagan to Mogador, from Mogador to Marrakesh, and finally from Marrakesh through the treacherous Beni Magild to Fez.  At every step their numbers had increased but their substance had diminished, for only the destitute had joined them.  Nevertheless, while they had their flocks and herds they had borne their privations patiently—­the weary journeys, the exposure, the long rains of the spring and the scorching heat of summer.  But the soldiers of the Kaids whose provinces they had passed through had stripped them of both in the name of tribute.  The last raid on their poverty had been made that very day by the Kaid of Fez, and now they were without goats or sheep or oxen, or even the guns with which they had killed the wild bear, and their children were crying to them for bread.

So the people’s faces grew black, and they looked into each other’s eyes in their impotent rage.  Why had they been brought out of the cities to starve?  Better to stay there and suffer than come out and perish!  What of the vain promises that had been made to them that God would feed them as He fed the birds!  God was witness to all their calamities; He was seeing them robbed day by day, He was seeing them famish hour by hour, He was seeing them die.  They had been fooled!  A vain man had thought to plough his way to power.  Through their bodies he was now ploughing it.  “The hunger is on us!” “Our children are perishing!” “Find us food!” “Food!” “Food!”

With such shouts, mingled with deep oaths, the hungry multitude in their madness had encompassed Mohammed of Mequinez as Israel and his company came up with them.  And Israel heard their cries, and also the voice of their leader when he answered them.

First the young prophet rose up among his people, with flashing eyes and quivering nostrils.  “Do you think I am Moses,” he cried, “that I should smite the rock and work you a miracle?  If you are starving, am I full?  If you are naked, am I clothed?”