A Canopy of Rose Leaves by Isobel Chace Page B

joking?’ he countered, but he was a lot less sure of himself than he had been. ‘It is true that you don’t want my presents. Taroof nisti .’
    ‘I’m not joking,’ she insisted. ‘Believe me, I wouldn’t joke about a thing like that!’
    What Reza might have said and done then she was never to know for, to her inordinate relief, she saw Maxine coming towards them through the bazaar, an anxious expression vividly reflected on her fair face.
    ‘It was mean of you to start without me!’ she said sharply to Deborah as she caught up with them. She smiled a blinding smile in Reza’s direction. ‘I’m not blaming you,’ she added. ‘I’m sure you would have waited for me if you could.’
    ‘But of course,’ Reza responded. ‘You have missed nothing, however. Miss Deborah has only learned a couple of phrases—nothing of importance—hardly any of the sentences I should like her to learn!’
    ‘And me too?’ Maxine encouraged him.
    ‘There are other phrases for you to learn.’ He gave her an intimate look. ‘I have to remember that your brother speaks a little Farsi, no? Supposing he were to disapprove of what I teach you?’
    ‘Howard wouldn’t care,’ Maxine murmured.
    ‘But he is your brother, Miss Maxine. He cares more than you think about what happens to you!’
    Deborah saw Maxine’s mouth close mutinously and she had little doubt as to what the American girl was thinking. Maxine had liked Reza from the first and she wouldn’t be at all pleased if she were to discover that her liking for him was not returned with interest.
    ‘I’ve had enough of the bazaar,’ she said out loud. ‘It’s too busy to be an ideal place for a language lesson. Why don’t we go somewhere else?’
    Maxine turned bright, pleading eyes on to Reza’s face. ‘Take us to see the Hafez Memorial,’ she pleaded with him. ‘Or Saadi’s, if it’s nearer. Nothing could be more calculated to please Howard than that!’
    ‘It is pretty,’ Reza agreed. ‘But it is not old. There are other places that are more secluded—more to the modern taste!’
    Maxine slanted a glance at the English girl. ‘Well, Deborah?’
    ‘I’d like to pay my respects to Hafez,’ Deborah began, and broke off when she saw Maxine’s frown.
    ‘I thought you had business in the square,’ Maxine said meaningly.
    Deborah looked questioningly at Maxine. ‘I could have,’ she said doubtfully.
    ‘No, no,’ Reza said at once. ‘I am sorry, but it wouldn’t be suitable for me to take Miss Maxine by herself. If Miss Deborah cannot come this morning we must go some other time.’
    ‘Oh, all right,’ Maxine agreed with a grudging look at Deborah. ‘It doesn’t matter much. When you take us to meet your mother there will be plenty of time for us to talk without half the world listening to every word.’
    ‘Have you told your mother about us yet?’ Deborah asked him, carefully noting his reactions from beneath her eyelashes.
    ‘Of course, of course,’ he said easily. ‘I will arrange everything. You have nothing to fear!’ His too hot eyes met hers. ‘I will arrange everything,’ he repeated. ‘Now, let’s go to the Hafezieh and see if we can have our fortunes told. That is what every girl likes, yes?’
    Maxine laughingly agreed that it was. ‘I guess one makes one’s own fortune, but it might be fun. What happens?’
    Reza’s good spirits were magically restored to him. ‘It may not happen today, but many people go to the grave of Hafez and choose a verse from his writings at random, finding their future in the words. Hafez is the greatest lyricist who ever lived!’
    Deborah was far from being convinced of that, but Maxine, well-schooled by her brother, giggled. ‘You don’t have to tell us that! Howard says his every word can be read at two levels, either at face value, as good, sensual love poetry, or as a running commentary on the glories of the Koran and the Moslem way of life. Wasn’t he a sufi, or a whirling dervish,