It is a grand and elevating sight to him
who loves to behold so faithful and heroic a death. After long years
have elapsed, Mohammed will still think of this hour when Masa stood
firm and immovable in her vows, nobly and disdainfully rejecting
life.
Blessed be the love that is strong even unto death! Blessed be death
when such a spirit hovers over and consecrates it.
A long pause. And Cousrouf Pacha speaks again in harder and more
imperious tones than before:
"Raise your hand, Masa, and give the sign I require."
Masa remains motionless. Death awaits her; she knows this, and is
glad. Oh, that her face were not veiled! Mohammed might then read
her love in her eyes--in these stars fallen from heaven, as he had
called them a few short hours before.
"Masa, give the sign; this is your last opportunity."
She does not move.
"Then I curse you, and you die! You have pronounced judgment on
yourself!--Here, ye slaves!"
They flutter to his side like the ravens of the night, greedily
seeking their prey.
"Take hold of her and tie her up in the sack."
Mohammed's hands and feet are bound, and he cannot rise, but he can
lift his head and gaze at the dread deed that is being done, and he
does so. Yes, he sees his white dove disappear in the sack in the
black grave that is closed over her.
"Thus are unfaithful slaves punished; and thus the law allows and
commands.
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