Consider,
Nefysseh, that this is the most enormous sacrifice that Osman can
make for the woman he loves; he promises not to kill him upon whom
she bestows her hand."
"And you, L'Elfi," said Nefysseh, in a soft voice, "will you swear
the same?"
"I will," cried L'Elfi. "I swear that I will do as Osman Bey has
said--I will still detest my enemy, but I will not kill him whom you
love. Now speak, Sitta Nefysseh, and decide between us!"
For a moment all were silent. The two beys awaited her decision with
wildly-throbbing hearts. She was still silent, her large eyes turned
toward heaven with a wondrous expression.
At this moment the song of the slaves, accompanied by the music of
the clarinet and violin, again resounded from the midst of the
oleander and rose-bushes. The voice of a slave arose, singing of a
slave who loves his mistress, and dies because of her indifference.
He has borne this bitter sorrow for long days and nights, and dares
not tell the tale of his love. He bore it, and was blessed in being
permitted to see her, but her heart was cold and knew no love for
him. But greater unhappiness was in store for him. One day there
came a proud and mighty bey, and succeeded in winning the love of
his adored; and Fate willed it that the poor, tortured slave should
see her eyes fixed on the bey in a loving gaze, and he also saw him
fall on his knees before his mistress and take her hand and carry it
to his lips.
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