Mohammed smiles and points to the sphinx. "Only look at the shadow
the moon throws from the dromedary to the mouth of the sphinx! Look
at the two heads there, they are our shadows, and they are kissing
each other, Butheita!"
She utters a cry of delight. These were her very words, and, as
then, he says, bending over her:
"Why should our shadows only kiss each other? Why not our lips,
too?"
But she shakes her head and says, as she then said:
"I have promised my father to kiss only that man whom I shall follow
to his tent for love. At the door of the tent he may give me the
first kiss."
"And you are still resolved to keep this promise?" said he, smiling.
"I am," says she, also smiling. "And you, Mohammed, shall never kiss
me!" she continues, the smile vanishing from her lips, and her
countenance assuming an angry expression. "No, you shall never kiss
me, for you shall never lead me to your tent as your wife! Oh, I see
it all plainly. You have stolen me from my father to make me a
slave!"
"Yes," said Mohammed, "I intend you to be a slave, the slave of your
love! For I know you love me, Butheita!"
"No!" she exclaims: "No, I do not love you! And you have no right to
make me a slave. I am the Bedouin queen; my whole tribe call me so,
and the daughters of the Bedouins have never been sold into slavery.
No, I will not be a slave!"
"And yet you shall be the slave of your love!"
"I do not love you, I hate you!" replies she, crying with anger.
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