She is performing her woman's duty of
seeking out and caring for the wounded. She stoops down over the
bodies that lie stretched out on the earth, and suddenly a cry
escapes her lips--a single cry; she then beckons to the servants,
who have followed them with stretchers, for the transport of the
unfortunate. She gazes in mute horror at the Mameluke bey who lies
there, weltering in his blood, a fearful wound on his forehead, that
almost renders his features irrecognizable. She, however,
distinguishes her lover, and commands her servants to place him on
the stretcher. With her own hands she binds up his wound, and covers
his countenance with the white cloths handed her by her women. She
then orders her servants to carry the Mameluke bey to her house, and
directs her women to continue their search for the wounded.
She walks beside the stretcher on which the wounded man lies. He
does not move; he lies there insensible, unconscious of what is
taking place.
Perhaps Sitta Nefysseh is only conveying a corpse to her house!
She has him carried up into the second story of her house. There he
is laid on a mat, and with tender hands Sitta Nefysseh herself
adjusts the cushions and pillows. The servants bring to his couch,
in silver bowls, water and the healing ointment which Sitta Nefysseh
had prepared with her own hands. With gentle touch she wipes the
blood from his countenance, washes out the wound, and applies to it
the ointment.
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