The Days of Mohammed Part 5

"Then what would you do, mother, if you were in my place when the anger comes up?"

She stooped and kissed him. "I would say, 'Jesus, help me,' and leave it all to him."

Just then a step sounded at the door. Some one entered, and a cry of "Father! Oh, father!" burst from the children. The mother sprang, trembling, to her feet. It was the long-lost husband and father!

Then the lamp was lighted, and the traveler told his loved ones the story of his long absence; how he had embarked at Jeddah on a foist bound for the head of the Red Sea; how he had been s.h.i.+pwrecked; had become ill of a fever as the result of exposure; and how he had at last made his painful way home by traveling overland.

As they thus sat, talking in ecstasy of joy at their reunion, the door opened and Yusuf entered with the girl in his arms.

Water was sprinkled upon her face and she soon recovered. She placed her hand on her brow in a dazed way, then sprang up, and, just pausing for an instant in which her wondrous beauty might be noted, dashed off into the night.

"It is Zeinab, the beautiful child of Ha.s.san," said the Jewess. "She will be well again now. The paroxysms have come before."

"Sit you down, friend," said her husband to Yusuf. "We were just about to break bread. 'Tis a scanty meal," he added, with a smile. "But we have been enjoined to 'be not forgetful to entertain strangers,' because many have thus entertained angels unawares. We shall be glad of the company."

There was a manly uprightness in the look and tone of Nathan the Jew which caught Yusuf's fancy at once, and he sat down without hesitation at the humble board.

And there, in that little, dingy room, he saw the first gleam of that radiant light which was to transform the whole of his after life. He heard of the trials and disappointments, of the heroic fort.i.tude born of that trust in and union with G.o.d which he had so craved. He received his first glimpse of a G.o.d, human as we are human, who understands every longing, every doubt, every agony that can bleed the heart of a poor child of earth.

He scarcely dared yet to believe that this G.o.d was one really with him at all times and in all places, seeing, hearing, knowing, sympathizing.

He scarcely dared to realize the possibility of a companions.h.i.+p with him, or the fact that the mediation of the planet-spirits was but a myth. Yet he did feel, in a vague way, that the light was breaking, and a tumultuous, undefined, hopeful ecstasy took possession of his being.

Yusuf's heart was ready for the reception of the truth. He was unprejudiced. He had cast aside all dependence upon the tenets of his former belief. He had become as a little child anxious for rest upon its father's bosom. He sought only G.o.d, and to him the light came quickly.

There was an infinity of blessed truth to learn yet, but, as he went out into the night, he knew that a something had come into his life, transforming and enn.o.bling it. The divinity within him throbbed heart to heart with the Divinity that is above all, in all, throughout all good.

Though vaguely, he felt G.o.d; he knew that now, at last, he had entered upon the right road.

Then he thought of Amzi. He must try to tell him all this. Surely Amzi the learned, the benevolent, would rejoice too in hearing the story of Jesus' life on earth, of his coming as an expression of the love of G.o.d to man, that man might know G.o.d.

Through the dark streets he hastened, thinking, wondering, rejoicing. He sought the bedside of Amzi on the flat roof.

"Amzi, awake!" he cried.

"What now, night-hawk?" said the Meccan, in his good-natured, half-railing tone. "Why pounce upon a man thus in the midst of his slumbers?"

"Amzi, I have heard glorious news of him--that Jesus of whom we have talked!"

"Well?"

"He seems indeed to be the G.o.d for whom I have longed. They have been telling me of his life, yet I realize little save that he came to earth that men might know him; that he died to show men the depth of his love; and that he is with us at every time, in every place--even here, now, on this roof! Only think of it, Amzi! He is close beside us, seeing us, hearing us, knowing our very hearts! There is no need more of appealing to the spirits of the stars. Ah, they were ever far, far off!"

"And where learned you all this, friend priest?" There was an indifferent raillery in the tone which chilled Yusuf to the heart.

"From Nathan, a Christian Jew, and his wife--people who live close to G.o.d if any one does."

"In the Jewish quarter?"

"Even so."

Amzi laughed. "Truly, friend, you have chosen a fair spot for your revelation--a quarter of filth and vice. A case of good coming out of evil, truly!"

"Will you not grant that there are some good even in the Jewish quarter?"

"Some, perhaps; yet there are some good among all peoples."

"Amzi, can you not believe?"

"No, no, friend Yusuf; I am glad for your happiness--believe what you will. But it is foreign to Amzi's nature to accept on hearsay that which he has not inquired into--probed to the bottom even. He cannot accept the testimony of any pa.s.sing stranger, however plausible it may seem.

Rejoice if you will, Yusuf, in the spring of a night-tune, but leave Amzi to seek for the deep waters still."

Amzi was now talking quickly and impressively.

Yusuf was amazed. The light was beginning to s.h.i.+ne so brightly in his own soul that he could not comprehend why others could not see and believe likewise. He talked with his friend until the dawn began to tint the top of Abu Kubays, but without effect. At every turn he was met by the bitter prejudice held by the Meccans against the whole Jewish race, a prejudice which kept even Amzi the benevolent from believing in anything advocated by them.

"Why do they not show Christ in their lives, then?" he would say.

"You cannot judge the whole Christian band by the misdeeds of a few, who are, indeed, no Christians," Yusuf pleaded.

"True; yet a religion such as you describe should appeal to more of them, and would, if it were all you imagine it to be. A perfect religion should be exemplified in the lives of those who profess it."

"I grant you that that is true," was Yusuf's reply. "And as an example let me bring you to Nathan and his family. n.o.body could talk for one hour to them without feeling that they have found, at least, something which we do not possess. This something, they say, is their G.o.d."

"Well, well. I shall do so to please you," said Amzi indifferently, "but I hope that a longer acquaintance may not spoil your trust in these people."

Further expostulation was vain. Yusuf retired to his own apartment, and prayed long and fervently, in his own simple way, offering thanks for the light which was breaking so radiantly on his own soul, and beseeching the loving Jesus to touch the heart of Amzi, who, he knew, though less enthusiastic than he, also desired to know truth.

And before he lay down for a short rest, he said:

"Grant, O Jesus, thou who art ever present, that I may know thee better, and that Amzi, too, may learn to know thee. Reveal thyself to him as thou art revealing thyself to me, that we may know thee as we should."

The priest's face grew radiant with happiness as he concluded.

And yet, in that same city, vice held sway; for, even as the priest prayed, a dark figure emerged from an unused upper attic in the house of Nathan the Jew, and, escaping by a window, descended a garden stair and disappeared in the darkness. Even in that dim light, had one looked he might have noted that the mysterious prowler wore the dress of a dervish.

CHAPTER VI.

YUSUF'S FIRST MEETING WITH MOHAMMED.

"A person with abnormal auditory sensations often comes to interpret them as voices of demons, or as the voice of one commanding him to do some deed. This hallucination, in turn, becomes an apperceiving organ, _i.e._, other perceptions and ideas are a.s.similated to it: it becomes a center about which many ideas gather and are correspondingly distorted."--_McLellan, Psychology._

Upon the evening of the following day, Amzi and Yusuf set out in quest of Mohammed, to whom the ma.n.u.script had not yet been given. Stopping at the house of Cadijah, a stone building having some pretensions to grandeur, they learned that Mohammed had left the city. Accordingly, thinking he would probably be found in the Cave of Hira, they took a by-path towards the mountains.

The sun was hot, but a pleasant breeze blew from the plains towards the Nejd, and, from the elevation which they now ascended, Yusuf noted with interest a scene every point of which was entirely different from that of his Persian home--different perhaps from that of any other spot on the face of the earth; a scene desolate, wild, and barren, yet destined to be the cradle of a mighty movement that was ere long to agitate the entire peninsula of Arabia, and eventually to exercise its baneful influence over a great part of the Eastern Hemisphere.[7]

Below him lay the long, narrow, sandy valley. No friendly group of palms arose to break its dreary monotony; no green thing, save a few parched aloes, was there to form a pleasant resting-place for the eye. The pa.s.ses below, those ever-populous roads leading to the Nejd, Syria, Jeddah, and Arabia-Felix, were crowded with people; yet, even their presence did not suffice to remove the air of deadness from the scene.

Of one thing only could the beholder be really conscious--desolation, desolation; a desolate city surrounded by huge, bare, skeleton-like mountains, grim old Abu Kubays with the city stretching half way up its gloomy side, on the east; the Red mountain on the west; Jebel Kara toward Tayf, and Jebel Thaur with Jebel Jiyad the Greater, on the south.