nances of the Prophet Mohammed's teaching: he would repeat his daily prayers to Allah; he would observe the month of Ramazzan with scrupulous care, fasting during thirty days from sunrise to sunset; he would give the prescribed alms to the poor; he would live a clean life; and he would make the Haj, the pilgrimage to Mecca.
He smiled, just a little sheepishly, a little self-consciously, as he remembered his former boast that Allah was only a myth and that a man who was worth his salt took what he wished without asking leave from anyone.
"Allahu akbar—God is great!" he repeated, as the Hill of Eternal Fire, the Hill of Pride, rose before him like a gigantic flame.
By this time the Prince of Persia was drawing near to Shiraz, leaning back, as was his habit, on the heaped, silken pillows of his litter; helping himself liberally to sweetmeats and sugared pistache nuts; listening drowsily to a little slave girl curled at his feet, who was crooning him to sleep with a lilting Afghan love song:
