_Ana bermil illi bedakea!_ (I obey your every command!) But do not ask me this! My head is at your feet.

But let us speak of other things, O Master!" The Master kept a moment's silence.

He peered contemplatively at the dark silhouette of the Arab, motionless, impassive in the dusk.
Then he frowned a very little, which was as near to anger as he ever verged.

Thoughtfully he ate a couple of the little _temmin_ wafers and a few dates.

Rrisa waited in silent patience.
All at once the Master spoke.
"It is my will that thou speak to me and declare this thing, Rrisa," said he, decisively.