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“Show a little mercy, O my lord!” whispered Hassan wretchedly. “Am I not shamed enough?”

Milhem did not answer. With the heads of both factions as it were at his saddlebow, he made haste to inform himself of the grounds of dispute between them. On the one hand, he learned how the Circassians would pay for nothing, how they were a turbulent crew, the worst of neighbors, and had even shown disrespect to some women belonging to the old inhabitants; on the other hand, how the Arabs were a set of churls, fathers of avarice, without one generous thought in their black hearts. Shems-ud-dìn, hearing the vigor of those mutual denunciations, judged the case hopeless of settlement without bloodshed. He was amazed to hear Milhem chuckle.

“It is my intention, and the will of the Sultàn is with me in the matter,” said the Governor pleasantly, “to live throughout my stay here at the expense of the lord of this place, be he Circassian or the son of an Arab; to reward his loyalty, and that he may boast to his children’s children of how he entertained the Viceroy. Now unto the house of which of you two shall I repair?”