hinges, and seeing light as from the robe of the Prophet glimmering
through them. O happy Emir!

The Jew drew within himself. Compromise with such fanaticism was
impossible. Then, with crushing distinctness, he saw what had not before
occurred to him. In the estimation of the Mohammedan world, the role of
Arbiter was already filled; that which he thought of being, Mahomet was.
Too late, too late! In bitterness of soul he flung his arms up and
shouted:

"The Emir is dying of the plague!"

He would have found satisfaction in seeing the blatant crowd take to its
heels, and hie away into the cloisters and the world outside; not one
moved!

"By Allah!" he shouted, more vehemently than before. "The Yellow Air
hath blown upon the Emir--is blowing upon you--Fly!"

"_Amin! Amin!_--Peace be with thee, O Prince of Martyrs! O Prince of the
Happy! Peace be with thee, O Lion of Allah! O Lion of the Prophet!" Such
the answers returned him.

The general voice became a howl. Surely here was something more than
fanaticism. Then it entered his understanding. What he beheld was Faith
exulting above the horrors of disease, above the fear of death--Faith
bidding Death welcome! His arms fell down. The crowd, the sanctuary, the
hopes he had built on Islam, were no more to him. He signed to his three
attendants, and they advanced and raised the Emir from the pavement.