Silence fell
upon the banquet-hall, where still the thin, perfumed incense-smoke
writhed aloft and where still the motionless Maghrabi men stood in
those ominous lines along the silk-tapestried walls.
"And what things," began the Olema, "doth thy heart desire, in this
city of Jannati Shahr? Tell thy wish, and perchance it shall be
granted thee!"
The Master paused, deliberately. Well he understood the psychological
value of slow action in dealing with Orientals. Bargaining, with such,
is a fine art. Haste, greed, eagerness defeat themselves.
Contemplatively the Master chewed a khat leaf, then smiled a very
little, and asked:
"Is it permitted to tell thee that this gold, of which thou hast
carved thy city--this gold which to thee is as stones and earth to
the people of Feringistan--hath great value with us?"
"It is permitted, O Frank. This thing we already know." The old man
frowned ominously. "Dost thou ask gold?"
The Master nerved himself for the supreme demand, success in which
would mean fortune beyond all calculation, power and wealth to shame
all plutocrats.
"Gold?" he repeated. "Yea, that is what we ask! Gold! Give unto us
what gold our flying house can carry hence to our own land beyond the
salted seas, and we will depart.
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