Then the poor slave's heart broke, and, falling to the
earth, he died, sighing, "I love thee!"
All three had listened to the sad air and words of the song. Sitta
Nefysseh now turned to the beys.
"This song has no bearing upon you. You will never see Sitta
Nefysseh give her love and hand to another! You who were my
husband's friends I will ever consider my friends! But hear me:
Mourad's widow will never marry again! As I knelt at the death-bed
of my husband, bathing his wound with my tears, I swore that I would
ever remain true to him I had loved so ardently my life long, and
never become the wife of another. And now I ask, noble beys, can you
desire Mourad's widow to perjure herself? I know you will say the
heart knows no oaths, love cannot be restrained. That may be, but do
not speak of it to me. You have come to ask with which of you I will
share the remainder of my days; I ask you, decide yourselves, can I
break this solemn oath?"
The two beys bow their heads still deeper, and sigh profoundly.
"Decide!" repeated Sitta Nefysseh.
They raise their heads and gaze at her sadly. "No, Sitta Nefysseh!
You may not break the oath to your husband, sworn in the name of
Allah and the prophet! No, you can never bestow your hand upon
another. Alas, that this is so! alas, that we must submit!"
"No, it is well that it is so!" said Sitta Nefysseh, with a soft
smile.
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