"You weep on my account," said he; "that proves that I have at least
not made my wife unhappy, and that she is not glad to be alone."
"Ah, Mohammed," murmured she, "happy have you made me, and I owe you
thanks for many glad years!"
"And I thank you for these words," said he, gently. "I will take
them with me as an amulet to protect me without, in the world. Think
of me, and watch over my children. Care for them, and do not let
them become the drones or drudges of existence. Remember that their
father is a soldier, and that he remains one to the end! Raise my
children with reference to this! Have them instructed, Ada, for my
sons must not come as ignorant soldiers to my army!"
"To your army?" exclaimed Ada, regarding him in astonishment--"your
army?"
He started; his inmost thoughts had for a moment escaped his lips.
"The army in which I serve!" said he, quickly. "Have my boys taught
to read and write; this is necessary, believe me. And now, farewell,
and receive my thanks for all the beautiful days and years which you
have sought to bless me with!"
He did not say, "which you have blessed me with." He did not wish to
take leave of her with a falsehood on his lips, and his eye glanced
over toward the place where Masa had sunk beneath the waves. There
lay his happiness buried, and from that grave it had never risen.
Ada knew it not, he had never complained, and never seemed
discontented; she had thought him happy.
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