"No!" I cried bitterly, "I have nothing to do with Allah. He is a cruel, beastly god, who tells people to kill—and you know you have killed thousands of us—and little babies, too!"
To my surprise I found myself hating the Turks with a hatred I never thought I could feel since I had come to know them. And I was miserable because I was in the same bed with Djimlah.
Her eyes glistened in the semi-darkness. Our little bed faced the windows, where there were no curtains, and the light undisturbed was pouring in from the stars above, which we could see twinkling at us.
"Funny! funny! funny!" she kept saying to herself. "I thought you liked us—and oh! I do adore you so! I felt as if truly you were my own baby."
She had on a night-dress made of light brown cambric, with yellow and red flowers on it. Her hair was tied at the top of her head with a yellow ribbon, from which was dangling a charm against the evil eye. It came over me how unlike a Greek child she was, and how very Turkish.
"Djimlah!" I cried, "you are not, and you shall not be my equal before God."
She crossed her hands on her breast and became lost in meditation. After awhile she said:
"There is no other God but God—and we are all His children. So they told me and I believe it, don't you?"
