And one day she found herself a waif of the road, with no provider and no shelter.

Where was her lord and master? She knew nothing of his affair but the policeman's words to her:

— He will not be coming back!

Rumors about her master brushed her ears; people passed around the tale of the murderer awaiting his inevitable fate: the hang-man's noose!

She was terrified at what she heard, but she never got to the bottom of the matter... and, as was her settled habit, she submitted to whatever events the days set before her.

Umm Sahloul had no choice but to bid farewell to the quarter where she had lived a stretch of her days, and she abandoned herself as prey to life's floods — drained of strength, dazed and bewildered, not knowing where to set her steps — and the floods came near to dragging her down to the bottom. But soon she felt something stirring in her womb, as if to tell her of its presence; the matter became plain to her, and she seemed to hear a soft voice calling:

— I have come to you out of the unknown world of darkness; what will you do with me?

And suddenly the woman felt an awakening creep through her limbs; she burst into tears, then turned to laughing, and was seized by an agitation in which laughter and weeping mingled.

From that moment Umm Sahloul knew that her life had a purpose — and what a purpose...

From that moment the woman with child was certain she was no longer insignificant, as she had been before...

Like all other beings, she must live, and she must toil...

She had become a "mother," and that was motive and spur enough — and what glory has motherhood left, beyond itself, for a woman to boast of?

That was Umm Sahloul in truth...

A "mother" in the world of dignity, esteem, and regard — not

in the world of illusion, mockery, and contempt!

The woman found her way to the mosques and shrines, guided there by simple instinct, and in that field a measure of good fortune was granted her; so she thanked God for the kindly blessing He had bestowed on her, and persevered in her course with energy and zeal, until she was able to establish a shelter for herself in one of the alleys of "al-Tarbi'a": a narrow, crumbling room that no ray of sun ever found, winter or summer.

And what need had the woman

of light when she came back to her chosen refuge? She spent the whole of her day pacing the streets, going round the doors of mosques and shrines, turning over in her mouth the familiar morsel for everyone she met:

— Have mercy on a mother supporting her orphan child... Have mercy on her, and God will have mercy on you!

By the time the day drew to a close, weariness had worn the woman down and her rounds had exhausted her; so in her narrow room she took comfort in that darkness which brought rest and