He sits there for a moment as
motionless and pale as a marble statue, and then motions with his
hand toward the door. He cannot speak, he only motions to them to
leave the room, and the boys hasten to their mother's side in alarm.
Ada takes them by the hand and leaves the room with them.
Mohammed is now alone with his sons' offerings.
He stares down at them for a while, and then takes up the package
Ibrahim had laid at his feet.
He tears it open, and there lies Masa's long, black hair. A cry
escapes his lips! It is not the viceroy, not the man, who cries out.
It is the death-cry of his first love!
He presses the hair to his lips, and two tears trickle slowly down
his cheeks. His gaze fastens on his Masa's hair in a long, painful
glance.
He had often kissed these tresses while they clung to her beloved
head. He now kisses them for the last time, and then conceals them
in his bosom.
He bends down again and takes up the presents of his other sons.
He remembers the cup well. Masa had often drunk out of it.
He kisses the rim of the cup, the place where Masa's crimson lips
had touched; he then carefully places it on the cushion beside him.
He now takes up the third present--the gold-embroidered cuffei he
had purchased for Masa from the merchant, Lion.
She wore it around her neck for the last time when he pressed her to
his heart and took leave of her for a short time, as he thought.
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