"Yes," I answered and slipped the coins into my pocket. In recognition of his soul's goodness, my wife poured him a second cup of coffee. He took a sip, then spoke further: "Seriously, I want to look after her. I would like to be her guide to all of the holy sites, including Bethlehem and anywhere else she wants to visit. Do you know why I would do this?" "Out of compassion," my wife said. "Yes, I too first thought of this. Yet when I reflected on my heart's decision, just as I always do when I think of my Mother, it wasn't a feeling of sympathy. Rather, there was something else. Right now, I'm not sure what to call it, because I've never felt this way before. It's almost like a duty, and yet again, it may be more like something that I very much enjoy doing. Just as you witnessed yesterday, I would do battle with the whole world if it meant protecting Schamah and her mother. And yet, that is much, much too little; that's a long, long way from the right thing to do. I still want to think about this some more. When I've found the answer, I'll tell you. Now, may I leave you again? There's something very necessary that I must do. Remember what I said about going to the Lions, to the Elephants, to the Hippos, to the Whales, and to Abd en
"Does he know that you went to visit us?" "I don't intend to tell him. As you know, he has such an extraordinary affection for you; if he learned that I planned to come here, you would be stuck with him for the entire day. Well then, may Allah protect you; I'm going now." He finished his cup of coffee, shook our hands, opened the door, went outside, and stood still. For a moment, he pondered, came inside again, then firmly closed the door behind him. It seemed as if he had some great secret that he wanted to entrust to us: "I simply must ask you a question. Don't you find this ridiculous? In a man's own country, he is called "The Chosen One." I tried to help him with the answer: "How did you arrive at this question?" "In my hours of vanity, I have taken pride in this designation; but seriously, this title actually irritates me."
"So, be angry!" said my wife. "Your irritation is more justified than any pleasure from that title." As he meditated on that advice, he looked at her. Then he aimed his eyes on me, thoughtfully nodding: "I put a great deal of stock into what your wife has said. Perhaps you don't? Up to this point, she has always come up with just the right words. Now, I'm really going to do it! May Allah protect you!" Hardly ten minutes after he left us, there was a knock on the door. Who was it? His father. He asked us to forgive him for disturbing us at such an inconvenient hour. Something had happened which he absolutely had to share with us. "Did you dream something?" I asked him.