Whether it was anger over the wounding of my friend, or the bliss
caused by the lovely image I had beheld, I know not, but my arm was
strong and mighty, and love and heroism exulted in my heart. I
called out to the Mamelukes, `We must and will die or conquer!' But,
being still too young to die, and loving life too well, we
conquered. The enemy was driven from the field, and ours was the
victory. We encamped on the field after the bloody conflict; and
then, having won the victory, I felt privileged, when evening came,
to repair to Mourad's tent to report our success.
"No one was there to announce me; I drew back the curtain and
entered the first room. No one was there, and the curtain of the
inner apartment of the tent was half drawn aside. I went no farther,
knowing that the wounded Mourad lay there on his cushions, and that
Sitta Nefysseh was with him. I knew this because I heard her
singing; she sang her beloved to sleep as a mother lulls her babe to
rest, or as the houris sing in paradise, when they in wondrous
melody announce the joys of heaven to dying mortals.
"I remained standing in the tent and listened to your song, Sitta
Nefysseh. You sang to your husband of love and happiness--sang in
sweet words what Djumeil says to his Lubna: `Nature breathes love.
The bird in the air sings of love; the spring which bubbles at your
feet murmurs of love; the rose that blossoms in the garden sheds
love's fragrance--all is love and bliss.
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