They, too, like fine clothes, and
they will thank me more for that which I have bought with my life.
Yes, I will do this!"
He rushed to the door with such violence that Khadra could hardly
recall him. "Where are you going, Mohammed?"
"To the cliffs. What my mother despises I will throw, into the sea."
"Well, if you are about to do that, it shall be as you wish," said
the mother, leading him back from the door. "If the mermaids are to
have these beautiful things, it is better Mother Khadra should keep
them."
"You promise me to wear these clothes?" said he, a smile suddenly
illuminating his face.
Khadra seated herself, spread out the beautiful goods, and regarded
them with a mournful smile. "It looks like mockery."
"No, not like mockery, but like pure love," said the boy, eagerly.
"My love dresses you in purple and gold, and I wish to see Sitta
Khadra the most brilliant among women." A blissful smile suffused
itself over his features. But suddenly this smile disappeared, and
his countenance assumed an expression of care and anxiety. At this
moment he saw how pale his mother was. Her pallor contrasted
strangely with the purple lustre of the goods she held in her hands.
"You are not ill, Mother Khadra; you are not suffering?" said he, in
the same anxious tone in which he had so often asked.
"No, my son, I am not ill," said she, regarding him calmly.
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