Khaled laughed a little at her words.
'Kasbek is far from Riad,' he answered, 'and the waters of the Kura do not irrigate the Red Desert. I am not displeased. On the contrary, I will give you a husband and a sufficient dowry. Go in peace.'
But Almasta remained where she was, weeping and beating her forehead.
'Let me stay!' she cried. 'Let me stay, for I love you. I will eat the dust under your feet. Only let me stay.'
'I think not,' Khaled answered. 'You weary Zehowah with your silence and your sullenness.'
'Let me stay!' she repeated, over and over again.
She was not making any pretence of grief, for the tears ran down abundantly and stained the red leather of Khaled's shoes. Though he was hard-hearted he was not altogether cruel, for a man who loves one woman greatly is somewhat softened towards all such as do not stand immediately in his way.
'It is true,' he thought, 'that I have given this woman some occasion of hope, for I have treated her kindly during many days, and she has probably supposed that I would marry her. For she is less keen-sighted than Zehowah, and moreover she loves me.'
'Do not drive me out!' cried Almasta. 'For I shall die if I cannot see your face. What have I done?'
'You have indeed done nothing worthy of death, for I cannot prove that you killed Abdul Kerim. I will therefore give you a good husband and you shall be happy.'