The Valley of the Kings

opposite dune. The hedge of prickly pear defining hersmall domain did not obstruct the view, for it consisted largely ofgaps, by one of which a group of three Frankish ladies had just gonefrom her. She could see their white-clad forms, under sunshades, downthere in the hollow, battling ungracefully with the sand for foothold.With one hand raised as a screen from the declining sun, the mother ofIskender clenched the other, and shook it down the pathway of thoseladies so that the bracelets of coloured glass tinkled upon her strongbrown arm."Ha, Carûlîn, most ancient virgin, thy stalk is a crane's! There isneither flesh nor blood in thee, but only gristle and dry skin. Thyheart is gall and poison. . . . O Jane, thou art a fruit all husk;half man, yet lacking man's core, half maid, yet lacking woman's pulp!In thee is no fount of joy, no sweetness. Did love of our BlessedSaviour and the Sacred Book bring the pair of you to this land? ByAllah, not so; well I know it! It was the love of change, ofadventure; and what is that in a virgin save the hope of men? And now,seeing none have desired you, your longing is turned to hatred of allthings sweet! My son is bad, you declare; it is a grace for him to beallowed to sweep your house. But the son of Costantîn--that sly-eyeddevil!--he is good: of him you make a clergyman, a grand khawâjah!Have I not washed these twenty years for you and the false priest whosethings you are? Was I not among the first to profess your damningheresy? The house of Costantîn are converts of last year. Let Allahjudge between us this day." --This text refers to the Kindle Edition edition.