Butheita drew in her reins
at the door and commanded the animal to kneel down.
"Stranger, we are at our journey's end! At the threshold of our
tent, Butheita bids you welcome, blessed be your entrance into our
house!"
She quickly loosens the shawl that binds him to the saddle, and
before he is aware of what she is doing lifts him in her arms.
Lightly, as though he were a plaything, she bears him into the inner
apartment of the tent, where she smilingly deposits him on a mat.
"Blessed be your entrance into my tent! Now refresh yourself with
repose after your long ride. I am going out to prepare your
breakfast."
He follows Butheita with eager eyes, as she steps into the other
apartment of the tent. Forgotten are all the schemes and thoughts
that ordinarily occupy him day and night. Forgotten are the past and
future; he now lives for the present only. May the sun mercifully
stand still, and this hour prove an eternity! Why occupy himself
with thoughts of the future, the present is so beautiful, so
heavenly? Oh, that it could last forever! But no! a cloud passes
over his brow; he remembers--
"No! Let the present pass rapidly," said he. "I am a prisoner, and
how would my soldiers laugh to see the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali,
bound and a captive in the tent of a Bedouin chieftain!"
He knew that Butheita had remained in the other apartment and heard
his words.
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