He seized Hebron in his arms and went toward the couch whispering,
"How beautiful Thou art today! Each time I see thee Thou art different, each time more beautiful than ever."
"Let me go," whispered Hebron. "At times I am afraid that Thou wilt bite me."
"Bite? No! But I might kiss thee to death. Thou dost not even suspect thy own beauty."
"I am beautiful in comparison with ministers and generals. But free me."
"In thy presence I should wish to be like a pomegranate. I should wish to have as many arms as the tree has branches, so as to embrace thee with all of them, as many hands as it has leaves, and as many lips as it has flowers, so as to kiss thy lips, eyes, and bosom at once with them."
"Thou hast a mind marvelously free of care for a sovereign whose throne is in peril."
"On the couch, I do not care for a throne. While I have a sword I shall have power."
"Thy troops are scattered," said Hebron, defending herself.
"Tomorrow fresh troops will come, and after to-morrow I shall gather the scattered ones. I repeat to thee be not occupied with trifles. One moment of fondling is worth more than a year of dominion."