Rather let us sit down, and listen to what Djumeila has to say."
He did not reply. He only made a motion as if to shake off the hand
she had laid on his arm, in order to draw him down to her side. But
now against his will he permits her to draw him down to a seat on
the stone beside her.
"Listen, Mohammed! Masa is at home, locked in her room. She weeps
and laments, and has sworn to me by her mother's spirit that she
would die to-night. The waves are to close over her if Mohammed does
not rescue her from disgrace and misery. Listen, Mohammed, and take
what I say to heart. Will you do so, Mohammed!"
"Well, then, I will!" said he, after a short pause. "May Allah judge
you if you are about to deceive me again!"
"Then incline your ear closer to me, that the ghins may not hear
what I say and carry it further. What Masa confided to me is
intended for you only."
He inclines his head close to hers. For a long time she whispers and
speaks to him in impressive tones; and he listens at first against
his will, but gradually a new life courses through his being, a
delicate color suffuses itself over his pale cheeks, and his brow
quivers with emotions of mingled joy and pain.
The woman continues to speak in low, earnest tones.
When she has finished, Mohammed bounds to his feet. Suddenly he is
completely changed. His eyes sparkle, his lips smile and part to
give utterance to a cry, to a loud, piercing, joyous cry, such as
the eagle utters when he returns after a long journey and sees his
young looking up and opening their beaks to greet him.
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