The Arab's Pledge: A Tale of Marocco in 1830. Edward Ledwich Mitford
"and see how much work I have done. Is it not well done?" and her merry laugh rang out musical, as she nestled down by her mother.
"Yes," said her mother, "we shall soon have earned enough for a dowry worthy of your family, though your beauty is dowry for a queen!"
Suddenly the girl stood up in an attitude of terror; her eyes fixed, and her hand pressed to her forehead.
"What is it, my child?" cried Rachel, "you frighten me; are you ill?"
"O my mother," said she, mournfully, "I had forgotten; I know not what brought back to my mind horrible dreams, which last night visited me, and which troubled me as the whisperings of evil spirits."
"You read too much, my child, and spoil your sleep; but let not dreams trouble you, mere fanciful flights of the imagination while reason sleeps."
"Yet it is written," she replied, "'In dreams, in visions of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon man, the Lord showeth His will, and sendeth warnings to His servants.'"
"May the evil be averted!" said her mother; "but cheer up, my child, and let us put our trust in Him, the Holy One, who holds all under His hand."
It was some time before Azora could shake off the indefinite dread of impending evil which oppressed her; but she gradually recovered her usual cheerfulness, and, after their frugal repast, they sat down to their work.
In the course of the forenoon, a knock at the door was answered with some hesitation by Rachel, who gave admittance to our two acquaintances of yesterday. With a lordly air of patronage they sat down, and reclined on the cushions at the end of the room.
"Peace," said Abdslem; "peace to all true believers. Well, daughter, is my caftan finished? I have waited for it long. To-morrow there is a review and powder-burning. I must have it."
"I trust it will be finished this evening," said Rachel; while Azora, feeling their eyes fixed upon her, bent down over her work; "and I hope my lord will be pleased with it."
"No doubt about that," said Abdslem: "and I hope you will be as pleased with your pay!" he added sarcastically, with a look at Hassan; "but I shall want more braiding in front; and you have not silk enough. Here, Rachel," said he, in a commanding tone, "take this dollar, and go to that enemy of God, Benjamin, and buy enough to complete it; and hear! don't let him cheat you!"
It had been concerted between them to dismiss the mother, that they might have a clear field to put their plot in execution; and she was no sooner gone, than Abdslem, feigning business at a house in the vicinity, and telling his friend to await his return, also departed. Thus left alone with one, of whose feelings towards her she was well aware, Azora naturally felt uneasy; her occupation had brought her into contact occasionally with Moors of this description; but she had hitherto managed, by the firmness of her behaviour, to keep them at a respectful distance; but the importunate perseverance of Hassan had caused her much misery and apprehension. Hassan arose; the struggle in his bosom was fierce and short: he paused; but his better feelings succumbed to the fire of his passion.
"Azora," he said, "Azora, I have poured out at your feet the love that devours me; you have repulsed me with contempt. Can my undying love not move you? Have you no pity? Can you see my anguish without one word of hope? Oh, how I love you! Azora! Azora, have mercy!" and he clasped his hands in supplication.
"This is folly," said Azora, who had risen to her feet. "You are a Moslem; I, a Jewess; what love can there be between us? Go! and crush out the wicked thoughts with which you insult me; but talk not of love;" and a deep blush overspread her beautiful face.
"You will drive me mad," said Hassan, with concentrated feeling, and his frame trembling with emotion. "Beware! for I will no longer be fooled; I am come now for the last time. If I go hence this day without a ray of hope, by the holy Koran I swear you shall live to find that Hassan's spurned love can only be matched by his hatred and revenge!"
"And is it so?" said Azora, recovering from her alarm at his increasing violence, but deadly pale. "Then know that I am no more to be intimidated by your threats than deceived by your professions. I know that I am exposed to your violence, but the Sultan's protection is spread over the poorest of his subjects!"
"Think not," said Hassan, "that I intend to break the laws. No! but the law itself shall place you in my power. And now decide," added he, in a lower tone, through his clenched teeth, and seizing her wrist in his grasp; "for, by the sword of the Prophet, I swear you shall be mine, or perish at the stake!"
"God of Israel! help me!" exclaimed Azora, as the horrible design now burst upon her mind. Regaining her self-possession, she replied in a calm tone, "Then let me perish! There is a God above who will exact fearful vengeance for innocent blood!"
"On my head be it," said Hassan, with unchecked rage; and seeing Abdslem, who was now returning, he rushed out, shouting, "Bear witness, O Moslmeen, this woman has professed the faith of Islam."
"I have heard it! I have heard it!" said Abdslem. "To the Cadi!" and collecting a rabble as they proceeded, they all went off to the tribunal of the Cadi, to seal by false witness their iniquitous plot.
On their departure, Azora stood riveted to the spot, scarcely able to believe in the reality of what had occurred; but a sickening chill came over her, as she began to recollect some part of the dreams which had so unaccountably affected her. Presently her mother returned, and, seeing her daughter pale and speechless, her hand pressed to her head, the purchases dropped to the ground, and she clasped her child in her arms.
"My child! my child! what has happened? Oh, speak!"
"The dream! O my mother! The dream! We are lost—lost—and ruined!" and, leaning her bursting head on her mother's shoulder, through sobs and tears she told her, in broken sentences, the conspiracy of the Moors against her honour and her life.
"Shall the curse cleave to our race for ever?" said Rachel. "But, no; they shall not take you from me;" and she clasped the affrighted girl more closely to her bosom, as they heard the sound of voices, and the approach of a crowd in the street.
"They cannot—they dare not!"
By this time the return of Abdslem, with the Cadi's soldiers, to summon Azora to the presence of that functionary, put an end to her lamentations; and forgetting her caution and the usual respect to be shown to a Moslem, she endeavoured to assuage her grief by uselessly aggravating their oppressors.
"Oh! may a mother's curse light on you and yours! May your children be fatherless, and your wife a widow. Had your eye (sleepless be it ever) no pity? Could you not spare my innocent child? Perjured slave! reprobate scum of the children of Edom—may every curse that ever came out of the mouth of man be poured in one appalling mass on your devoted head! O Lord of Hosts! hear me!"
These curses were poured out, half in Hebrew half in Arabic, as she stood with one arm round her daughter, and the other raised to heaven! She looked an inspired prophetess expecting the thunderbolt to seal her denunciation.
"Listen!" exclaimed Abdslem to the appalled bystanders—"be witness to her curses, and to me,—a Moslem!—Woman, your curses be on your own head. What is written will happen! If the Prophet, (on whom peace,) has enlightened your daughter's mind with the truth of Islam, and she wishes to leave your worn-out religion, what is it to me? The praise be to God, what is written must be!"
"A lie! he knows it a lie," said Azora. "I was born a Jewess, and so I will die! and I go not except by force!"
"Then force it shall be;" and with the help of the soldiers, and in spite of her screams and resistance, they tore her from her mother, who, overcome with anguish, swooned in the arms of the women who had collected and looked on in terror. Abdslem then threw her hayk over Azora (for he would not take a woman through the streets unveiled) and led her off in triumph, the crowd that followed chanting as they went along—
"La illaw il Allaw—
Mohammed er rasool Allaw!"
Azora had often heard this chanted at the Moorish funerals, and she now felt it as the knell