"And what kind please you?"
"Bright hair, and eyes, if they are kind, blue, like those into which I am looking at this moment."
"Oo, Pan Selim!"
And Hania frowned; but Selim, putting his palms together, made himself pleasant with that incomparable sweetness in his eyes, and began,—
"Panna Hania, be not angry. What has the poor little Tartar done? Be not angry! Let the lady laugh."
Hania looked at him, and as she looked the cloud vanished from her forehead. He simply enchanted her. A smile wandered in the corners of her mouth; her eyes grew bright, her face radiant; and at last she answered in a soft, mild voice,—
"Very well, I will not be angry; but I beg you to be nice."
"I will, as I love Mohammed, I will."
"And do you love your Mohammed much?"
"As dogs a beggar."