“Now, Amine,” said Philip, after a pause, “what think you I of my dream?”
“Does it not point out that I am your friend, Philip, and that the pilot Schriften is your enemy?”
“I grant it; but he is dead.”
“Is that so certain?”
“He hardly could have escaped without my knowledge.”
“That is true, but the dream would imply otherwise. Philip, it is my opinion that the only way in which this dream is to be expounded is—that you remain on shore for the present. The advice is that of the priests. In either case you require some further intimation. In your dream I was your safe guide—be guided now by me again.”
“Be it so, Amine. If your strange art be in opposition to our holy faith, you expound the dream in conformity with the advice of its ministers.”
“I do. And now, Philip, let us dismiss the subject from our thoughts. Should the time come, your Amine will not persuade you from your duty; but recollect, you have promised to grant one favour when I ask it.”
“I have: say, then, Amine what may be your wish?”
“O! nothing at present. I have no wish on earth but what is gratified. Have I not you, dear Philip?” replied Amine, fondly throwing herself on her husband’s shoulder.