after a little while, she woke as from a sleep.

"I am ready now," she said in a whisper, "quite ready, sweet Heaven,
quite, quite ready now."

Then with her one free hand she felt in the darkness for Israel,
where he sat beside her, and touching his forehead she smoothed it,

and said very softly, "Farewell, my husband!"
And Israel answered her, "Farewell!"

"Good-night!" she whispered.
And Israel drew down her hand from his forehead to his lips and sobbed,

and said, "Good-night, beloved!"
Then she put her white lips to the child's blind eyes, and at that moment

the spirit of the Lord came to her, and the Lord took her, and she died.
When lamps had been brought into the room, and Fatimah saw

that the end had come, she would have lifted Naomi from Ruth's bosom,
but the child awoke as she was being moved, and clasped her little fingers

about the dead mother's neck and covered the mouth with kisses.
And when she felt that the lips did not answer to her lips, and

that the arms which had held her did not hold her any longer, but
fell away useless, she clung the closer, and tears started to her eyes.

CHAPTER V
RUTH'S BURIAL

The people of Tetuan were not melted towards Israel by the depth
of his sorrow and the breadth of shadow that lay upon him.

By noon of the day following the night of Ruth's death,
Israel knew that he was to be left alone. It was a rule of the Mellah

that on notice being given of a death in their quarter,
the clerk of the synagogue should publish it at the first service

thereafter, in order that a body of men, called the Hebra Kadisha
of Kabranim, the Holy Society of Buriers, might straightway make

arrangements for burial. Early prayers had been held in the synagogue
at eight o'clock that morning, and no one had yet come near

to Israel's house. The men of the Hebra were going about their
ordinary occupations. They knew nothing of Ruth's death

by official announcement. The clerk had not published it.
Israel remembered with bitterness that notice of it had not been sent.

Nevertheless, the fact was known throughout Tetuan.
There was not a water-carrier in the market-place but had taken it

to each house he called at, and passed it to every man he met.
Little groups of idle Jewish women had been many hours congregated

in the streets outside, talking of it in whispers and looking up
at the darkened windows with awe. But the synagogue knew nothing of it.

Israel had omitted the customaryceremony, and in that omission lay
the advantage of his enemies. He must humble himself and send to them.

Until he did so they would leave him alone.
Israel did not send. Never once since the birth of Naomi had he crossed

the threshold of the synagogue. He would not cross it now,
whether in body or in spirit. But he was still a Jew,

with Jewish customs, if he had lost the Jewish faith, and it was one
of the customs of the Jews that a body should be buried

within twenty-four hours, at farthest, from the time of death.
He must do something immediately. Some help must be summoned.

What help could it be?
It was useless to think of the Muslimeen. No believer would lend a hand

to dig a grave for an unbeliever, or to make apparel for his dead.
It was just as idle to think of the Jews. If the synagogue knew nothing

of this burial, no Jew in the Mellah would be found so poor that
he would have need to know more. And of Christians of any sort

or condition there were none in all Tetuan.
The gall of Israel's heart rose to his throat. Was he to be left alone

with his dead wife? Did his enemies wish to see him howk out her grave
with his own hands? Or did they expect him to come to them

with bowed forehead and bended knee? Either way their reckoning was
a mistake. They might leave him terribly and awfully alone--alone

in his hour of mourning even as they had left him alone in his hour
of rejoicing, when he had married the dear soul who was dead.

But his strength and energy they should not crush: his vital and
intellectual force they should not wither away. Only one thing

they could do to touch him--they could shrivel up his last impulse
of sweet human sympathy. They were doing it now.

When Israel had put matters to himself so, he despatched a message
to the Governor at the Kasbah, and received, in answer,

six State prisoners, fettered in pairs, under the guard of two soldiers.
The burial took place within the limit of twenty-four hours prescribed

by Jewish custom. It was twilight when the body was brought down
from the upper room to the patio. There stood the coffin on a trestle

that had been raised for it on chairs standing back to back.
And there, too, sat Israel, with Naomi and little black Ali beside him.

Israel's manner was composed; his face was as firm as a rock,
and his dress was more costly than Tetuan had ever seen him wear before.

Everything that related to the burial he had managed himself,
down to the least or poorest detail. But there was nothing poor about it

in the larger sense. Israel was a rich man now, and he set no value
on his riches except to subdue the fate that had first beaten him down

and to abash the enemies who still menaced him. Nothing was lacking
that money could buy in Tetuan to make this burial an imposingceremony.

Only one thing it wanted--it wanted mourners, and it had but one.
Unlike her father, little Naomi was visibly excited. She ran to and fro,

clutched at Israel's clothes and seemed to look into his face,
clasped the hand of little Ali and held it long as if in fear.

Whether she knew what work was afoot, and, if she knew it,
by what channel of soul or sense she learnt it, no man can say.

That she was conscious of the presence of many strangers is certain,
and when the men from the Kasbah brought the roll of white linen

down the stairway, with the two black women clinging to it,
kissing its fringe and wailing over it, she broke away from Israel

and rushed in among them with a startled cry, and her little white arms
upraised. But whatever her impulse, there was no need to check her.

The moment she had touched her mother she crept back in dread
to her father's side.

"God be gracious to my father, look at that," whispered Fatimah.
"My child, my poor child," said Israel, "is there but one thing in life

that speaks to you? And is that death? Oh, little one, little one!"
It was a strange procession which then passed out of the patio.

Four of the prisoners carried the coffin on their shoulders,
walking in pairs according to their fetters. They were gaunt

and bony creatures. Hunger had wasted their sallow cheeks,
and the air of noisome dungeons had sunken their rheumy eyes.

Their clothes were soiled rags, and over them, and concealing them down
to their waists and yet lower, hung the deep, rich, velvet pall,

with its long silk fringes. In front walked the two remaining prisoners,
each bearing a great plume in his left hand--the right arm,

as well as the right leg, being chained. On either side was a soldier,
carrying a lighted lantern, which burnt small and feeble in the twilight,

and last of all came Israel himself, unsupported and alone.
Thus they passed through the little crowd of idlers that had congregated

at the door, through the streets of the Mellah and out
into the marketplace, and up the narrow lane that leads

to the chief town gate.
There is something in the very nature of power that demands homage,

and the people of Tetuan could not deny it to Israel. As the procession
went through the town they cleared a way for it, and they were silent

until it had gone. Within the gate of the Mellah, a shocket was killing
fowls and taking his tribute of copper coins, but he stopped his work

and fell back as the procession approached. A blind beggar crouching
at the other side of the gate was reciting passages of the Koran,

and two Arabs close at his elbow were wrangling over a game
at draughts which they were playing by the light of a flare,

but both curses and Koran ceased as the procession passed under the arch.
In the market-place a Soosi juggler was performing before a throng

of laughing people, and a story-teller was shrieking to the twang
of his ginbri; but the audience of the juggler broke up