Now, as he receives this kiss from his mother, the tears suddenly
burst from his eyes and pour down his cheeks, hot tears, and yet
they cool and alleviate the burning pains of his soul.
"You weep," said the merchant, whose own cheeks were wet with grief.
"Weep on, pain must have its relief in tears, and even a man need
not be ashamed of them."
He sat down beside Mohammed, drew him close to his side, supporting
the boy's head on his bosom, and spoke to him of his dear mother.
"Nor are you poor, Mohammed. Your mother returned to me your love-
offering, together with other sums she had saved. I have fifty gold-
pieces for you. Yes, fifty glittering gold-pieces! You can now dress
better than formerly, until provision is made for your future; and,
if you should need advice or assistance, come to me. You know that I
am your friend. And now, be happy and courageous; remember that poor
Sitta Khadra has suffered much, and let her be at rest now. Another
friend is awaiting you above on the rock; will you go up to him?"
"It is Osman, is it not?" asked Mohammed, as be dried his eyes. "Am
I not right?"
The merchant inclined his head. "He could not come down the steep
path, or he would be here now."
"I will go to him; I know he loves me. He will not laugh when he
sees that I have been weeping."
No, Osman did not laugh. When he saw his friend coming, he advanced
to meet him with extended arms, and they embraced each other
tenderly, tears standing in the eyes of both.
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