Well, Sittah, must my Assad not have been
A gallant handsome youth?
SITTAH.
If he was thus,
And ’twasn’t the templar who sat to the painter.
But how couldst thou be so forgetful, brother,
As not to ask about his parents?
SALADIN.
And
Particularly too about his mother.
Whether his mother e’er was in this country,
That is your meaning, isn’t it?
SITTAH.
You run on—
SALADIN.
Oh, nothing is more possible, for Assad
’Mong handsome Christian ladies was so welcome,
To handsome Christian ladies so attached,
That once a report spread—but ’tis not pleasant
To bring that up. Let us be satisfied
That we have got him once again—have got him
With all the faults and freaks, the starts and wildness
Of his warm gentle heart—Oh, Nathan must
Give him the maid—Dost think so?
SITTAH.