"Will you also be mindful of your promise to your father to allow him only to kiss you, who shall one day lead you to his home?"
"I shall ever be mindful of this promise."
"Then, Butheita, then will I kiss you," cried he, and with passionate violence he clasped her in his arms, and pressed a kiss on her lips. He then turned and left the tent.
Butheita sank down upon the mat, and with outstretched arms she knelt there, motionless, a statue of ecstasy, of blissful love.
Mohammed stepped out before the tent, and beckoned to the sheik to approach.
"I beg that you will accompany me, sheik; it will be too fatiguing for your daughter to take this ride the second time."
"Gladly, master; she has already told me so herself, and I am ready," said he, commanding the dromedary to kneel down. Mohammed sprang into the palanquin, and the sheik followed him.
"Farewell, Butheita," he cried. She did not answer; she did not wish to go out, as he might see her tears, and her father, too, might observe them. She therefore remained silent. She had drawn the curtain over the entrance to the inner apartment, and lay on the mat weeping; weeping and laughing at the same time, for joy and pain-- ecstasy and pain were contending for victory in her heart. "He is gone, gone! and yet he is ever with me."
copyright © 2016 powered by Half of the Analects of Confucius governing the world network sitemap