Thither on mules from Tortosa came El Safy, leading the Abbot Milo and Jehane, and brought them easily through all the defiles to that castle on a spur which is called Mont-Ferrand, but in the language of the Saracens, Barin.  From that height they looked down upon the domes and gardens of Musse, and knew that half their work was done.

What immediately followed was due to the insistence of El Safy, who said that if Jehane was not suitably attired and veiled she would fail of her mission.  Jehane did not like this.

‘It is not the custom of our women to be veiled, El Safy,’ she said, ‘except at the hour when they are to be married.’

‘And it is not the custom of our men,’ replied the Assassin, ’to choose unveiled women.  And this for obvious reasons.’

‘What are your reasons, my son?’ asked the abbot.

‘I will tell you,’ said El Safy.  ’If a man should come to our master with a veiled woman, saying, My lord, I have here a woman faced like the moon, and more melting than the peach that drops from the wall, the Old Man would straightway conceive what manner of beauty this was, and picture it more glorious than the truth could ever be; and then the reality would climb up to meet his imagining.  But otherwise if he saw her barefaced before him; for eyesight is destructive to mind-sight if it precede it.  The eye must be servant.  So then he, dreaming of the veiled treasure, weds her and finds that she is just what was predicted of her by the merchant.  For women and other delights, as we understand the affair, are according to our zest; and our zest is a thing of the mind’s devising, added unto desire as the edge of a sword is superadded to the sword.  So the fair woman must certainly be veiled.’

‘The saying hath meat in it,’ said the abbot; ’but here is no question of merchants, nor of marriage, pardieu.’

’If there is no question of marriage, of what is there question in this company?’ asked El Safy.  ’Let me tell you that two questions only concern the Old Man of Musse.’

Jehane, who had stood pouting, with a very high head, throughout this little colloquy, said nothing; but now she allowed El Safy his way.  So she was dressed.

They put on her a purple vest, thickly embroidered with gold and pearls, underdrawers of scarlet silk, and gauze trousers (such as Eastern women wear) of many folds.  Her hair was plaited and braided with pearls, a broad silk girdle tied about her waist.  Over all was put a thick white veil, heavily fringed with gold.  Round her ankles they put anklets of gold, with little bells on them which tinkled as she walked; last, scarlet slippers.  They would have painted her face and eyebrows, but that El Safy decided that this was not at all necessary.  When all was done she turned to one of her women and demanded her baby.  El Safy, to Milo’s surprise, made no demur.  Then they put her in a gold cage on a mule’s back, and so let her down by a steep path into the region of birds and flowering trees.  There was very little conversation, except when the abbot hit his foot against a rock.  In the valley they passed through a thick cedar grove, and so came to the first of four gates of approach.