As L'Elfi came near, his countenance assumed a deferential
appearance, and, his arms crossed on his breast, he stepped forward
and bowed profoundly before Sitta Nefysseh.
"Queen of my heart, sun of my eyes! Allow me to do homage, and to
lay my present at your feet as a token of my devotion!"
He beckoned to the Mamelukes to come forward and lay the casket down
before her.
"I rejoice that you have come, L'Elfi," said Nefysseh, quietly. "I
rejoice, because it proves that your wounds are now healed, as are
those of Osman Bey. Yet, I see no necessity for such outward proofs
of your friendship."
"O Sitta Nefysseh!" cried L'Elfi. "One brings his offerings to the
good spirits, and, if I were a heathen, I would say, 'I lay on the
altar of my goddess the tokens of my adoration, of my love!'"
"You are, however, no heathen, but a Moslem; and what becomes a
heathen does not become the brave Mameluke L'Elfi Bey!"
"What I am elsewhere is forgotten," cried L'Elfi; "here I am nothing
but your slave, nothing but a man who would gladly pluck the stars
from heaven to lay them at your feet! Therefore allow me to do
homage to my queen as my heart prompts!"
He drew the cloth from the casket, and golden dishes, goblets, and
vases, glittered in the sunshine; and these vessels contained
jewelry of varied design, set with precious stones that would have
delighted the eyes of many.
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