Before he could hinder her, she snatched his hand, to her lips with passionate affection and sobbed out:
"You are so good! Oh! Rustem, there is not another man on earth so good as you are, and my mother will bless you for it. Do what you will with me! And I declare to you, once for all that all that is past and gone, and only to think of it gives me horror. And it was exactly as you say: my mother dead, no one to warn me or protect me,—I was hardly sixteen, a simple, ignorant creature, and he called me, and it all came over me like a dream in my sleep; and when I awoke. . . ."
"There we are," he interrupted and he tried to laugh as he wiped his eyes. "Both laid up with holes in our heads.—And when I am in my own country I always think the prettiest time is just when the hard winter-frost is over, and the snow melted, and all the flowers in the valleys rush into bloom—and so I feel now, my little girl. Everything will be well now, we shall be so wonderfully happy. The day before yesterday, do you know, I still was not quite clear about it all. Your trouble gave me no peace, and it went against the grain-well, you can understand. But then, later, when I was lying in my room and the moon shone down on my bed . . . " and a rapt expression came into his face that strangely beautified his harsh features, "I could not help asking myself: 'Although the moon went down into the sea this morning, does that prevent its shining as brightly as ever to-night, and bringing a cooler breeze?' And if a human soul has gone under in the same way, may it not rise up again, bright and shining, when it has bathed and rested? And such a heart—of course every man would like to have its love all to himself, but it may have enough to give more than once. For, as I remembered, my mother, though she loved me dearly, when another child came and yet another gave them the best she had to give; and I was none the worse when she had my youngest sister at the breast, nor was she when I was petted and kissed. And it must be just the same with you. Thought I to myself: though she once loved another man, she may still have a good share left for me!"
"Yes, indeed, Rustem!" she exclaimed, looking tearfully but gratefully into his eyes. "All that is in me of love and tenderness is for you—for you only."
At this he joyfully exclaimed:
"All, that is indeed good hearing! That will do for me; that is what I call a good morning's work! I sat down under this tree a vagabond and a wanderer, and I get up a future land-holder, with the sweetest little wife in the world to keep house for me."
They sat a long time under the shady foliage; he craved no more than to gaze at her and, when he put the old questions asked by all lovers, to be answered with lips and eyes, or merely a speechless nod. Her hands no longer plied the needle, and the pair would have smiled in pity on any one who should have complained of the intolerable heat of this scorching, parching forenoon. A pair of turtle doves over their heads were less indifferent to the sun's rays than they, for the birds had closed their eyes, and the head of the mother bird was resting languidly against the dark collar round her mate's neck.
THE BRIDE OF THE NILE
By Georg Ebers