"O these little feet! They were not created to come in contact with
the earth, and to be wounded by thorns. You should tread on flowers
only, and flutter from rose to rose as the butterfly from flower to
flower. Alas, and yet your home is now a dark cave! Masa, it
tortures me to see you here, under the earth and in darkness."
"Is it then dark here?" asked she, in her sweet voice. "I thought we
had the light of the stars here! Yes, look there, I am right; look
there!" She raised her arm and pointed upward to the opening in the
roof of the cave through which the heavens looked down. "See,
Mohammed, there are the stars, there are the heavens. Let us seat
ourselves on this beautiful spot."
"You are right, Masa. There is starlight in this cave, although
clouds obscure the heavens. Yes, here in our paradise we are
elevated above all earthly care; here is our heaven, and you are the
revelation of Allah. O Masa, let me sink down before you in
adoration, kiss the hem of your garment, and entreat your
forgiveness!"
"My forgiveness?" said she, nestling her little head on his breast,
as they sat side by side on the cushions brought here by Mohammed's
care, and covered with Persian carpets. "My forgiveness, and for
what?
"Because I thought ill of you, Masa; because, while I lay in anguish
up yonder on the rock the other day, I accused you in my senseless
anger, and cursed my love for you.
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