the walls of Jerusalem, by the Zion gate. She was happy to hear herself called Um Daoud, that is, "The Mother of David."
The governor interrupted her explanations, by telling her to make some lemonade for me. Close by the two steps of the dais stood a pair of high clogs, almost like stilts, made of inlaid dark wood and mother-of-pearl, with crimson leather straps. She fastened these on her henna stained, naked feet—for the earth floor was very damp and dirty, and water rested here and there in little pools. Her husband followed her, and helped her to reach some green drinking-glasses from a niche in the wall. The other woman, who looked very old and careworn, remained by my side. When the young wife was out of hearing, I exclaimed, "How beautiful she is!" She agreed with me, and seemed to take a mother's pride and pleasure in her beauty. I did not know that the young wife was her rival; I fancied that she was her daughter, till she said, "Um Daoud is young, Um Daoud is happy; she is young, and is the mother of two sons;" (she pointed to a cradle hammock, suspended from the key-stone of the arch above us—in it a little swaddled figure was securely and gently swinging;) "but," she added, "I have no sons left, my sons are dead; and I am old, I am no longer handsome, I am nothing, I am worthless." Then she explained to me that she had lived about twenty years with the governor before he took Um Daoud for his wife. I said to her, alluding to the little ones who had now crawled out of the fodder, "Whose children are they?" She said, "They are sons of the house"—that is, of the governor—and a slave, who stood near the oven, was their mother.
Presently Um Daoud returned with the lemonade. The governor himself brought me a tiny cup of coffee flavored with ambergris. Young Daoud now came in, and seemed delighted to find me there. He said, "Make my mother's face in your book," and, "Make my brother's face for me." The baby-boy was lifted out of the hammock; he was
