"Only look at poor, miserable me.
There is nothing beautiful or radiant about me, proud stranger! Let
me go, you would die of hunger and thirst if I remained here, and it
would be shameful, too, if I should neglect the duty of hospitality
toward my guest. But I will tell you what I can and will do! You
shall not lie there bound. I will not have it so, Mohammed Ali. Give
me your sacred word that you will not leave, but will remain here
until my father comes for you. Give me your word, and I will untie
the cords that bind your hands and feet. Give me your word."
He looks at her in astonishment.
"Do you still have such faith in man's promises that you believe I
would keep my word if I gave it?"
"Yes," said she, smiling; "I do; this would be a horrible world if
one could not. My father has often said to me: 'When a man has given
his word he keeps it, though the consequence should be death. Thus a
truly brave man acts; only cowards break their word.'"
"Then you consider me a truly brave man, Butheita, and not a
coward?"
"It is only necessary to look at you, stranger," said she, with a
winning smile, "to feel in the depths of one's heart that you are a
man, and no coward. Give me your word, and you are unfettered. Give
me your word that you will not leave."
"Well," said he, gazing at her joyously, "I give you my word, as a
man! I swear by Allah, and the prophet, and by my own honor, I will
not leave here until your father comes and says that I may, and
states the conditions.
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