Meanwhile, our merriment is soon checked. Sudden shrieks from the engine and an exceptionally generous supply of jolts and bangs conjure up to my mind awful visions of a collision in the gruesome loneliness of the night. The cheik, however, does not share my alarm, but calmly answers: "Methinks we do but unrail!" To me, however, the prospect suggested of ending my days in an Anatolian ditch, without even the covering of my Union Jack, offers but poor consolation.
"Come, wake up," I almost shouted, "it is too terrible! Someone must talk to me about Islam." And when I realised my own selfishness in not leaving the poor man to sleep, I could only put forth the plea: "I am so interested in your religion."
"I am flattered indeed," was the immediate response. "Religion in the East is truly a real and living force." At his grave words I saw again that long line of weary soldiers among the mountains at their prayers.
"I shall wound your feelings," I went on, "if I persist in questioning you about the grievances of your people, though God knows my curiosity is not idle."
"It is far better to wound my feelings and publish the truth than to suffer the slightest risk of your misjudging us. You may help to see us righted, for Great Britain may have indeed 'sinned in ignorance.'"
But my allusion to Lord Robert Cecil had raised the problem of Christianity in the East. I had to admit that he was accused of working for "union" between the Anglican and the Greek Churches. "He is a devout, loyal and energetic Anglican, but I refuse to believe that he would ever encourage such criminal folly."
"He is, indeed, too honourable," replied the cheik. "That is only another example of bringing politics into religion, which must kill faith."
"But does not Islam teach us that politics and religion are one?"
"No, indeed; that is a false, Western, interpretation
