Mohammed Ali and His House [102]
he feared betrayal.
The kindly moon has permitted him to take a look at the landscape round about him, and to assure him there is no one in the vicinity to betray him. All is at rest, he alone is awake and abroad. The moon has done enough; it glides behind a dark cloud and conceals itself again.
The waves murmur at the feet of him who has been standing there listening, and he now glides down from the cliff to the opening in the rock. He creeps in at this opening, and on through the narrow passage to the cave, until he can stand upright. He now utters a cry, and his cry is answered in the distance. He stands still and leans against the wall of the cave, overwhelmed either with anxiety or happiness. It is with happiness, for he will find her: she has answered him.
CHAPTER XII
THE PARADISE UNDER THE EARTH.
They rest heart to heart for a moment, and then Mohammed sinks down on his knees, and kisses the hem of her dress and her little feet, and she bows down to him and whispers in his ear words which he hardly understands, and yet each of them resounds in his soul like heavenly music.
"O these little feet! They were not created to come in contact with the earth, and to be wounded by thorns. You should tread on flowers only, and flutter from rose to rose as the butterfly from flower to flower. Alas, and yet your home is now a dark cave! Masa, it tortures me to see you here, under the earth and in darkness."
"Is it then dark here?" asked she, in her sweet voice. "I thought we had the light of the stars here! Yes, look there, I am right; look there!" She raised her arm and pointed upward to the opening in the roof of the cave through which the heavens looked down. "See, Mohammed, there are the stars, there are the heavens. Let us seat ourselves on this beautiful spot."
"You are right, Masa. There is starlight in this cave, although clouds obscure the heavens. Yes, here in our paradise we are elevated above all earthly care; here is our heaven, and you are the revelation of Allah. O Masa, let me sink down before you in adoration, kiss the hem of your garment, and entreat your forgiveness!"
"My forgiveness?" said she, nestling her little head on his breast, as they sat side by side on the cushions brought here by Mohammed's care, and covered with Persian carpets. "My forgiveness, and for what?
"Because I thought ill of you, Masa; because, while I lay in anguish up yonder on the rock the other day, I accused you in my senseless anger, and cursed my love for you. I thought you were a woman like all other women, and yet you are beautiful and fair and pure, like a houri of paradise. I wished to tear you from my heart as we tear weeds from a flower-garden, and my heart was to be henceforth accessible only to ambition and glory; and now I know that all this is vain and empty. Mohammed no longer has aspirations after glory and renown; Mohammed no longer knows that wreaths of fame are twined and that laurels bloom without in the world; Mohammed only knows that this is paradise, and that heaven's fairest flower blooms here at his side. I feel your breath, my flower, I inhale fragrance from your lips, and see the starlight in your eyes, though none shines in upon us from the dark world without. I am with you, and you with me. Oh, let me rest at your side, and forget the world, and may it forget us too!"
"I do not understand your words," murmured she. "You are wise and learned, and I am only a poor girl, who has no words to express her thoughts, and hardly thoughts for that which she feels. I do know, however, that I am in paradise, and Allah forbid that my feet should bear me out into the world again! Oh, I never wish to see it again, Mohammed. And beautiful it would be, it seems to me, to slumber here in sweet tranquillity, never to awake again."
"Oh, it were heavenly, my sweet dove," murmured he, pressing her to his heart, "to fall into a sweet slumber here, and to journey hence, heavenward, to awaken in paradise. I would we had nothing more to do with the world; yet, swear to me, Masa, that when
The kindly moon has permitted him to take a look at the landscape round about him, and to assure him there is no one in the vicinity to betray him. All is at rest, he alone is awake and abroad. The moon has done enough; it glides behind a dark cloud and conceals itself again.
The waves murmur at the feet of him who has been standing there listening, and he now glides down from the cliff to the opening in the rock. He creeps in at this opening, and on through the narrow passage to the cave, until he can stand upright. He now utters a cry, and his cry is answered in the distance. He stands still and leans against the wall of the cave, overwhelmed either with anxiety or happiness. It is with happiness, for he will find her: she has answered him.
CHAPTER XII
THE PARADISE UNDER THE EARTH.
They rest heart to heart for a moment, and then Mohammed sinks down on his knees, and kisses the hem of her dress and her little feet, and she bows down to him and whispers in his ear words which he hardly understands, and yet each of them resounds in his soul like heavenly music.
"O these little feet! They were not created to come in contact with the earth, and to be wounded by thorns. You should tread on flowers only, and flutter from rose to rose as the butterfly from flower to flower. Alas, and yet your home is now a dark cave! Masa, it tortures me to see you here, under the earth and in darkness."
"Is it then dark here?" asked she, in her sweet voice. "I thought we had the light of the stars here! Yes, look there, I am right; look there!" She raised her arm and pointed upward to the opening in the roof of the cave through which the heavens looked down. "See, Mohammed, there are the stars, there are the heavens. Let us seat ourselves on this beautiful spot."
"You are right, Masa. There is starlight in this cave, although clouds obscure the heavens. Yes, here in our paradise we are elevated above all earthly care; here is our heaven, and you are the revelation of Allah. O Masa, let me sink down before you in adoration, kiss the hem of your garment, and entreat your forgiveness!"
"My forgiveness?" said she, nestling her little head on his breast, as they sat side by side on the cushions brought here by Mohammed's care, and covered with Persian carpets. "My forgiveness, and for what?
"Because I thought ill of you, Masa; because, while I lay in anguish up yonder on the rock the other day, I accused you in my senseless anger, and cursed my love for you. I thought you were a woman like all other women, and yet you are beautiful and fair and pure, like a houri of paradise. I wished to tear you from my heart as we tear weeds from a flower-garden, and my heart was to be henceforth accessible only to ambition and glory; and now I know that all this is vain and empty. Mohammed no longer has aspirations after glory and renown; Mohammed no longer knows that wreaths of fame are twined and that laurels bloom without in the world; Mohammed only knows that this is paradise, and that heaven's fairest flower blooms here at his side. I feel your breath, my flower, I inhale fragrance from your lips, and see the starlight in your eyes, though none shines in upon us from the dark world without. I am with you, and you with me. Oh, let me rest at your side, and forget the world, and may it forget us too!"
"I do not understand your words," murmured she. "You are wise and learned, and I am only a poor girl, who has no words to express her thoughts, and hardly thoughts for that which she feels. I do know, however, that I am in paradise, and Allah forbid that my feet should bear me out into the world again! Oh, I never wish to see it again, Mohammed. And beautiful it would be, it seems to me, to slumber here in sweet tranquillity, never to awake again."
"Oh, it were heavenly, my sweet dove," murmured he, pressing her to his heart, "to fall into a sweet slumber here, and to journey hence, heavenward, to awaken in paradise. I would we had nothing more to do with the world; yet, swear to me, Masa, that when