BRIDE. Ali.
PEHR. O misery and lamentation!
BRIDE. Calm yourself a moment—One moment, while they come in and congratulate us. The bridal procession is waiting without. Silence! They are nearing; stand at my side!
PEHR. Must I go forth again, and jest?
BRIDE. Obey me, for I'm a wise woman! When they go I shall tell you my plan. Here they come! Look pleasant, husband, else they will say that I made you unhappy.
PEHR. Dear old father, how right you were! Black is black and can never be white. [Pehr and bride seat themselves on divan and assume a sentimental attitude.]
[Enter Singers, Dancers, Chamberlain, Ameer, Royal Historian, Vizier.]
Chorus of women sing:
Joyous the loving hearts
That bleed from cupid's darts!
Ye nightingales and ye roses sing,
Noble halls and courtyards ring!
The Caliph's court rejoices
And echoes love's true voices.
[Pehr and bride hide their agitation.]
VIZIER. Caliph, a happy people, whom you find assembled here, at the foot of the throne, rejoice as they see happiness, like a sun, beam in your eyes to shine on the white rose which long hath sought the tall oak's trunk to lean upon; a happy people, youthful princess, rejoice in your good fortune and hope that your tree may have off-shoots with fresh rose buds, which, at some future day, may spread joy and bliss, like a spring rain, over land and kingdom!