Mohammed Ali and His House [215]
being, and his eyes open.
Yes, he lives! He is not dead! This is Nefysseh's victory over death, this is the result of the impassioned kiss impressed on the lips of her beloved.
"And is it possible, Nefysseh, you are indeed with me, and my dreams of love and bliss are realized? You with me! What can have happened? Why this wondrous change?"
He raises his hand to his forehead and touches the wound, and then he knows what has taken place; he feels it in the burning pain of his wound.
"Oh, we are lost--all lost! Tell me, Nefysseh, must I die?"
"No, you shall not die; you shall live, Youssouf, live for me."
"For thee? Oh, tell me, Nefysseh, do you, then, love me?"
She bends over him, clasps him in her arms, and lays her cheek against his.
"You ask, Youssouf? Do you not know? I have long loved, perhaps I loved you even while Mourad still lived! But I wished to know nothing of it, and I knew nothing of it. I refused to listen to the voices that whispered in my heart. And yet so blissful, so heavenly, to look at you, Youssouf, and read in your eyes the secret of your love. Yet my lips were silent, for, as Mourad's wife, I wished to remain unblamable. You loved me, and I wished to remain free from blame for your sake, too."
The tears that pour from her eyes fall upon his face--a heavenly dew that gives him new strength, new happiness.
"Speak on, Sitta Nefysseh, oh, speak on! What I hear is music! Let me hear this music and be happy! Oh, speak on, Nefysseh!"
"What shall I say, Youssouf? The whole meaning of my words is still, I love you, and have long loved you! When Mourad, my husband, died, I vowed over his dead body that I would remain true to him beyond the grave. Do you know why I wished to raise this barrier between us? I could not allow the youth to sacrifice his life for me in the blossom of his age. And, moreover, oh, fool that I was, I fancied the wide abyss that separated Mourad Bey's widow from his kachef Youssouf could never be crossed! I was proud, Youssouf, and proud for you, also! I did not wish to give any one occasion to say: 'Kachef Youssouf marries Mourad's widow for her possessions--for her wealth. She is too old for him to love her. He can only have married her for her wealth and her name.' Thus they might have spoken of the youth, of the hero I loved and adored, and for whom I would gladly have sacrificed my life."
"And to whom you were yet so cruel, Sitta Nefysseh; to whom you caused so much suffering! For I have suffered, Sitta Nefysseh. It was my heaven to be in your presence, to see you. I adored you, and yet you refused to listen to me. But let me be silent. Speak on, oh, speak on of my happiness! Tell me again that you love me, Nefysseh; I cannot believe it--it cannot be!"
"And yet it is so, Youssouf, and long have I loved you. You know not of the long, sleepless nights I have passed in my solitary chamber, my hands folded in prayer to Allah for strength and firmness. You know not how often, in the still night, I have stretched out my arms toward you, and pronounced your name with passionate longing, entreating the welis to bear you to me in their gentle arms. Yet, with the day came cold, calm reason, exhorting Mourad's widow to be firm and proud. And, alas! I was firm. You knew not what it cost me. Then, Youssouf, a new period came. The beys Bardissi and L'Elfi addressed me, covetous not only of the possession of the woman, but also of her wealth. From that hour I knew that danger threatened you, for the Mameluke beys are fierce and cruel; and, if they had known of my affection for you, my beloved, you would have been lost. This I knew, and therefore was I cold and indifferent in my manner to you. You called me unfeeling and cruel when I sent you away to battle. I was afraid it might excite suspicion if I kept you back at such a time; and then, too, I was satisfied you would make for yourself a name, which you have done, my beloved. You returned. You came with a new declaration of love, which Nefysseh rejected, because Bardissi had been with her in the self-same
Yes, he lives! He is not dead! This is Nefysseh's victory over death, this is the result of the impassioned kiss impressed on the lips of her beloved.
"And is it possible, Nefysseh, you are indeed with me, and my dreams of love and bliss are realized? You with me! What can have happened? Why this wondrous change?"
He raises his hand to his forehead and touches the wound, and then he knows what has taken place; he feels it in the burning pain of his wound.
"Oh, we are lost--all lost! Tell me, Nefysseh, must I die?"
"No, you shall not die; you shall live, Youssouf, live for me."
"For thee? Oh, tell me, Nefysseh, do you, then, love me?"
She bends over him, clasps him in her arms, and lays her cheek against his.
"You ask, Youssouf? Do you not know? I have long loved, perhaps I loved you even while Mourad still lived! But I wished to know nothing of it, and I knew nothing of it. I refused to listen to the voices that whispered in my heart. And yet so blissful, so heavenly, to look at you, Youssouf, and read in your eyes the secret of your love. Yet my lips were silent, for, as Mourad's wife, I wished to remain unblamable. You loved me, and I wished to remain free from blame for your sake, too."
The tears that pour from her eyes fall upon his face--a heavenly dew that gives him new strength, new happiness.
"Speak on, Sitta Nefysseh, oh, speak on! What I hear is music! Let me hear this music and be happy! Oh, speak on, Nefysseh!"
"What shall I say, Youssouf? The whole meaning of my words is still, I love you, and have long loved you! When Mourad, my husband, died, I vowed over his dead body that I would remain true to him beyond the grave. Do you know why I wished to raise this barrier between us? I could not allow the youth to sacrifice his life for me in the blossom of his age. And, moreover, oh, fool that I was, I fancied the wide abyss that separated Mourad Bey's widow from his kachef Youssouf could never be crossed! I was proud, Youssouf, and proud for you, also! I did not wish to give any one occasion to say: 'Kachef Youssouf marries Mourad's widow for her possessions--for her wealth. She is too old for him to love her. He can only have married her for her wealth and her name.' Thus they might have spoken of the youth, of the hero I loved and adored, and for whom I would gladly have sacrificed my life."
"And to whom you were yet so cruel, Sitta Nefysseh; to whom you caused so much suffering! For I have suffered, Sitta Nefysseh. It was my heaven to be in your presence, to see you. I adored you, and yet you refused to listen to me. But let me be silent. Speak on, oh, speak on of my happiness! Tell me again that you love me, Nefysseh; I cannot believe it--it cannot be!"
"And yet it is so, Youssouf, and long have I loved you. You know not of the long, sleepless nights I have passed in my solitary chamber, my hands folded in prayer to Allah for strength and firmness. You know not how often, in the still night, I have stretched out my arms toward you, and pronounced your name with passionate longing, entreating the welis to bear you to me in their gentle arms. Yet, with the day came cold, calm reason, exhorting Mourad's widow to be firm and proud. And, alas! I was firm. You knew not what it cost me. Then, Youssouf, a new period came. The beys Bardissi and L'Elfi addressed me, covetous not only of the possession of the woman, but also of her wealth. From that hour I knew that danger threatened you, for the Mameluke beys are fierce and cruel; and, if they had known of my affection for you, my beloved, you would have been lost. This I knew, and therefore was I cold and indifferent in my manner to you. You called me unfeeling and cruel when I sent you away to battle. I was afraid it might excite suspicion if I kept you back at such a time; and then, too, I was satisfied you would make for yourself a name, which you have done, my beloved. You returned. You came with a new declaration of love, which Nefysseh rejected, because Bardissi had been with her in the self-same