Ah, Mohammed, we,
who are not made to become heroes, feel an irresistible longing
after love, and the sweet delight of being loved. You, of course,
cannot understand this."
"No, I cannot," cried Mohammed, with a contemptuous smile. "I shall
never bow my head beneath the yoke of female slaves, with their
beautiful almond-shaped eyes and purple lips. I shall consider all
women as playthings, with the exception of my mother," said he,
bowing his head with profound reverence. "Allah forgive me for
speaking ill of women, for our mothers are women, Osman! Forgive me
my pride and folly. I speak only of the light-footed slaves, with
the deceiving smile and the false eyes."
"And who knows,' said Osman, smiling, "but that my Mohammed, who
speaks of these fetters so derisively, may not some day be
vanquished? Do not set your face against it, Mohammed. Remember that
even the heart of the great prophet glowed with love, and that it
was he who peopled paradise with houris, and promised it, as the
highest bliss, that beautiful women should there kneel down before
the blessed spirits, gently stroke their feet, and look at them
lovingly with their lustrous, gazelle-like eyes. Therefore, do not
say, Mohammed, that your heart shall never be accessible to love!
Yours is a true, manly heart, and a manly heart must love. You see,
Mohammed, I am hardly a man, and shall probably never become one,
and therefore I do not believe that love will ever hold me in its
golden net; I shall love nothing but my best, my only friend.
Pages:
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120