on searching for him and asking, until asking and searching wore her out, and she came back to her house striking hand against hand. She found that she had left her bedding and her son's bedding on the floor, and she bent to gather them up. And there, under his pillow, was a bag tied at the neck. She took it up, and hardly had she opened it when her heart pounded. She hurried to the door and shut it, and came back to the bag: it was stuffed with liras. Tens of gold liras. Nay, hundreds of yellow gold liras. She fell to staring with her eyes and feeling with her fingers. Then all at once she tipped the bag out into her lap and went out the door, running down the road, her hair disheveled, her eyes wild, her dress hitched up over the liras, calling:

Look what Boutros has sent me! May Boutros bury me!

That happened ten years ago, in the village half of whose people are in Brazil. And to this day the passerby in its lanes still sees a woman of fifty, hair disheveled, eyes wild, her dress hitched up over gold liras that flew off in an instant between the earth's hearing and its sight, of which nothing remains but the delusion of madness, repeating her refrain:

— Look! Look what Boutros has sent me! May Boutros bury me!

And perhaps some mischievous ones draw near her and ask her about Makhoul, and she answers that he has gone to the land of gold a second time, to come back from his father with the second installment. And he will go on going and coming back until he has carried over the whole fortune. A hundred journeys and a journey, a hundred installments and an installment.

And they laugh with all their mouths... except the tender-hearted, who shake their heads, pitying the state of this wretched woman, and finding for her, in any case, in her madness a great consolation. For when the police came, fifteen days after Makhoul's disappearance, asking — but in vain — about the young man who had killed his father and his father's mistress in the wilds of Brazil and fled, Hanneh had already lost her mind.

ATKINSONS

Eight kinds of fragrance, every one of which pleases everyone

• GOLD MEDAL EAU DE COLOGNE

• ENGLISH LAVENDER

• ROYAL BRIAR EAU DE COLOGNE

• ROYAL BRIAR LOTION

• LOTION EAU DE COLOGNE

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By Royal Warrant, Perfumers to H.M. King George VI of Great Britain

J. & E. Atkinson Ltd.

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