She looked up at me bewildered. Then she rose on her knees, and touched me with her fingers, as if to ascertain that I were a living child. She peered into my face through the tears in her eyes—and I, quite afraid now, said not a word.
At length she broke the silence.
"Is that you, Greek baby?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Who sent you here?"
"Nobody. I came."
She extended her palms upward. Her face took on one of her mystic smiles.
"Allah," she said softly. "Allah, thou forgivest me, the unworthy."
For a long time she prayed to that power whom she called Allah, and I knew to be God. When her prayers were at an end, she gathered me to her heart, and kissed me with love and fervent exaltation; and thus carried me into the house.
Again she rubbed me with hot oil, and in order to warm me better she took me into her bed, and I slept, held fast in her arms.
The next day I must have been quite ill, and she never left me; for every time I opened my eyes she was there, crouching by me, wearing her radiant smile, which would have coaxed any truant soul to return to earth. At any rate it coaxed mine, which came again, though reluctantly, to inhabit my poor little body.
On the first day that I really felt better and
