Page:Alien Souls by Achmed Abdullah (1922).djvu/147

gypsy, loves neither you nor me, but only gold and silver and jewels and sweets and laughter."

"Aziza?" the Kurd had whispered, the blood mounting to his high cheek bones.

"Yes; Aziza."

Aziza! The gypsy!

Up there on the second floor above his shop, glistening among the heaped green cushions of her couch like an exotic beetle in a nest of fresh leaves; with her tiny oval of a face that through the meshes of her bluish-black hair looked like the face of a golden statue with living eyes—and the expression in those eyes, hard, keen, narrow, like the curling shimmer of moon-rays on forged steel …

For he had married Aziza after the Kurd, confronted by the inevitable, had given in. He had taken her to New York with him. For love of her he had outwitted his brother Armenians. He had outgeneraled them, outbargained them, and—if the truth be told—outcheated them … yes … because he loved her.

And now—?

"Mohammed Yar!" he stammered. "Remember the oath you gave!"

"I do remember," smiled the other, with a flash of even, white teeth, "and I shall keep it. Do not be afraid, Zado. And now—a cup of coffee, a few figs, a handful of dates. Give me welcome!"

Zado gave a relieved laugh. The color came back to his cheeks. He clapped his hands, summoning a clerk, and ordered coffee and figs and pipes to be brought, and for the next hour he sat facing his guest, chattering gayly.