“I have but one name; it is Haidee. Sorrow I have known; it has crushed me. Why should my words be riddles to you? You are a man; I am a woman. I have looked into your eyes, and I become your slave.”
As she spoke she knelt at his feet, and bowed her head upon his hand. He raised her gently. Her hair had fallen over her face; he brushed it back. He took her hand—soft and warm—in his own, and said, gently—
“Haidee, you speak strangely, and I do not understand you.”
“You do not understand!” she repeated. “Ah, your race is cold-blooded, and stand on ceremony. In my country we are quick, impulsive, warm. It is customary there for a maiden to go forth, when she has seen the man she would love, and, laying her hand in his, say—‘Thou hast taken captive my heart; at thy feet I lay it. Like the timid dove to its mate, I come to thee. On thy breast I lay my head; thou shalt shield me from the storm—thou shalt guard me from danger. Thy life shall be my life—thy death my death; and for all time I will be thy faithful and willing slave.’ Then will the man reply—‘If thou art true, I will love thee; if thou art honest, I will keep thee; if thou hast wrongs, I will redress them.’ And if she has wrongs, she will make answer and say—‘I am true as thou art true; I am honest as thou art honest; and thy slave’s wrongs need redressing.’”
Harper was astonished, though he knew that she spoke in the innocence of her heart and in all sincerity; and, however strange her confession might seem to English ears, she was an Oriental, and but following a custom of her country.
As she stood before him with flashing eyes and heaving breast, he could not help feeling impressed with her beauty and grace.
“Grieved indeed should I be if I have inspired you with aught but friendship,” he answered. “I dare not give you love; though I would, if it were possible, redress your wrongs; but, alas, I am a prisoner!”
“Dare not!” she echoed, turning her flashing eyes full upon him. “What do I give you in return? Life. If I save you from death, have I not a right to claim you? If you are a prisoner, I shall make you free; so that you can avenge my wrongs.”
“Haidee,” he cried, “you know not what you ask. Your beauty thrills me, but I dare not own its sway. I burn to be your champion, but that must not be at the expense of my honour.”