"Never mind them. Damn them!" answered Grim. "It's up to you! The
future of civilization is in your lap this minute! Can't you see that
if you lose you'll be a martyr, and Islam will rise to avenge you?"
"Inshallah," said Feisul, nodding.
"But that if you let pride go by the board, and seem to run away,
there'll be a breathing spell? Asia would wonder for a few months, and
do nothing, until it began to dawn on them that you had acted wisely and
had a better plan in view."
"I am not proud, except of my nation," Feisul answered. "I would not
let pride interfere with policy. But it is too late to talk of this."
"Which is better?" Grin demanded. "A martyr, the very mention of whose
name means war, or a living power for peace under a temporary cloud?"
"I am afraid I am a poor host. Forgive me," Feisul answered. "Dinner
has been waiting all this while, and you have a lady with you. This is
disgraceful."
He rose and led the way into another room, closing the discussion. We
ate an ordinary meal in an ordinary dining room, Feisul presiding and
talking trivialities with Mabel and Hadad. There was an occasional
boisterous interlude by Jeremy, but even he with his tales of unknown
Arabia couldn't lift the load of depression.
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