'Is it then not natural in a woman to love man? Have you heard no tales of love from the story-tellers of the harem?'
'I have heard many such tales, but none of them were told of me,' Zehowah replied. 'Will you drink again? Is the drink too sweet, or is it not cool?'
She had risen from her seat and held the golden cup, bending down to him, so that her face was near his. He laid his hand upon her shoulder.
'Hear me, Zehowah,' he said. 'I want but one thing in the world, and it was for that I came out of the Red Desert to be your husband. And that thing I will have, though the price be greater than rubies, or than blood, or than life itself.'
'If it is mine, I freely give it to you. If it is not mine, take it by force, or I will help you to take it by a stratagem, if I can. Am I not your wife?'
She spoke thus, supposing from his face that he meant some treasure that could be taken by strength or by wile, for she could not believe a man could speak so seriously of a mere thought such as love.
'Neither my right hand nor your wit can give me this, but only your heart, Zehowah,' he answered, still holding her and looking at her.
But now she did not laugh, for she saw that he was greatly in earnest.
'You are still talking of love,' she said. 'And you are not jesting. I do not know what to answer you. Gladly will I say, I love you. Is that all? What is it else? Are those the words?'
'I care little for the words. But I will have the reality, though it cost your life and mine.'