... Of Thy Mercy grant him
freedom from torment until Thou send him to Paradise, O Thou Most Pitiful
of the pitying.... Pardon us, and him, and all Moslems, O Lord of
Creation."
[Illustration: A YOUNG MARRAKSHI]
On the three following mornings the men of the deceased's house would
attend by the newly-made grave, in company with the tolba, and would
distribute bread and fruit to the poor, and when their task was over and
the way clear, the veiled women would bring flowers, with myrtle, willows,
and young leaves of the palm, and lay them on the grave, and over these
the water-carrier would empty his goat-skin. I knew that the dead man
would have gone without flinching to his appointed end, not as one who
fears, but rather as he who sets out joyfully to a feast prepared in his
honour. His faith had kept all doubts at bay, and even if he had been an
ill liver the charitable deeds wrought in his name by surviving relatives
would enable him to face the two angels who descend to the grave on the
night following a man's burial and sit in judgment upon his soul. This one
who passed me on his last journey would tell the angels of the men who
were slaves but yesterday and were now free, he would speak of the hungry
who had been fed, and of the intercession of the righteous and learned.
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