"He will come with his father. His father knows everything now."
In fact, Selim came about dusk. When he saw Hania, he grew red, and then as pale as linen. For a while a great struggle between his heart and his conscience was evident on his face. It was clear that from him too that winged bird, whose name is love, had flown.
But the noble youth conquered himself. He rose, stretched out his arms, fell on his knees before Hania, and cried,—
"My Hania! I am always the same; I will never desert thee,—never, never!"
Abundant tears were flowing down Hania's face; but she pushed Selim away gently.
"I do not believe, I do not believe that it is possible to love me now," said she; then covering her face with her hands, she cried,—
"Oh, how kind and noble you all are! I alone am less noble, more sinful; but now all is ended. I am another person."
And in spite of the insistence of the old Mirza, in spite of Selim's prayers, she refused her hand.
The first storm of life had broken that beautiful flower when it had barely opened. Poor girl! She needed now after the tempest some holy and peaceful harbor, where she could pacify her conscience, and bring her heart to rest.
She found that quiet and holy harbor. She became a Sister of Charity.