"I am satisfied with what I am, and ask for nothing more," replied the kachef. "I swore to Mourad Bey to serve him and his house my life long, and I will keep my oath: I therefore entreat you to say nothing to Sitta Nefysseh. She might be displeased."
"I will not," replied Bardissi; "remain true to your word. And now go and inquire whether your mistress can see me."
Youssouf hastened to where the slaves were still singing their melancholy song, and sent one of them down into the park to inform her that the Mameluke bey, Osman Bardissi, had come, and desired to see her.
The slave advanced timidly to the entrance of the kiosk, and announced the visitor to Sitta Nefysseh, who, awakening from a dream she had dreamed with open eyes, gently inclined her head.
"He is welcome. Conduct him to me.—Come nearer, ye slaves, and seat yourselves behind that clump of rose-bushes. You can sing and play while I am receiving my visitor, for Osman Bey loves music. Do me honor, my slaves, and sing the love-songs of Djumeil and his Lubna."
Bardissi cannot see these musicians as he advances toward the kiosk, conducted by the slave; he only hears and rejoices in their song.
Sitta Nefysseh has risen from her cushions, but she has not covered her face with the veil which, fastened to her hair with golden clasps, falls back over her shoulders. The widow, and above all the widow of the bey, is allowed to remain unveiled in the presence of a friend. The great prophet never commanded that the wives of Moslems should appear veiled in their own houses; the jealousy of their husbands had gradually imposed this burden upon them. Conscious of her own worth and dignity, Sitta Nefysseh feels herself free to disregard such requirement. She turns her lovely countenance with a gentle smile toward the advancing bey, and Bardissi feels the glance of her large eyes, though he does not see them. He feels it, and moves not, a slight tremor possessing itself of his entire being.
What! Bardissi trembles!—the hero, who amid the din of battle joyously confronts the death-dealing cannon, who never trembles, though face to face with a whole forest of spears—Bardissi trembles and turns pale!
Sitta Nefysseh sees it, and her smile brightens. "Why do you hesitate to approach, Osman? and what have you to say to me, friend of my husband, Mourad Bey?"
She wishes to remind him that he had been Mourad's friend. He well understands her meaning, and, stepping quickly forward, falls on his knee before her, and reverently kisses the hem of her dress.