Sitta Nefysseh regarded all this magnificence with an air of indifference.
"Accept the offering my adoration lays at your feet!" entreated L'Elfi. "You know I was with the British general in England, and, while there, I thought of you, and, before the ship left London, it was for days my sole occupation and endeavor to select beautiful things for you from among the articles displayed in the magnificent stores. I could not bring them with me, but they were sent after me, and have this day arrived. Pray accept them at the hands of your slave!"
"It seems to me that no one is privileged to offer Mourad Bey's widow presents of such value," said she, almost severely. "Yet," she continued in milder tones, "I will not humiliate him who was my husband's friend and companion. I will accept your gifts; they shall be placed in the saloon, and all the world shall see how L'Elfi Bey seeks to honor the widow of his former chieftain and friend. Thus will I accept your gifts, and give you thanks for them!—Come, Osman Bardissi!" she continued in louder tones, beckoning to the bey, who stood without in the shade of an oleander-tree—"come and see the magnificent presents which L'Elfi Bey has brought me from England!"
L'Elfi's countenance darkened, and he recoiled a step almost in anger. "What! Osman Bey is here?"
"And why not? He has recovered from the wounds received at Aboukir. Does it not become him to pay his respects to me? He has this privilege in common with yourself."
"True, my queen; pray forgive me for daring to find fault with your pleasure.—I greet you, Osman Bey Bardissi. I am glad to see you here! And now, I pray you, let me also see the gifts which you have brought the Rose of Cairo in token of your reverence and devotion. What becomes you, becomes me also; and, as Sitta Nefysseh has allowed you to see what I have brought, she will not refuse to permit me to see the offering of your devotion."
"You shall see it, L'Elfi Bey," said Osman, in a somewhat derisive tone. He stepped to the lattice-work of the kiosk, and, plucking the most beautiful crimson rose he could see, knelt down before Sitta Nefysseh and laid it at her feet. "This, Sitta, is my gift. I lay at your feet, the most beautiful of your sisters, your image!"
She smiled. "I thank you, Osman Bey, and gladly accept your offering, for Allah has created it."
He handed her the rose. She took it, held it to her face, and inhaled its fragrance. She then gracefully fell back on her cushion.
"Arise, Bardissi!" said she. "I have accepted the gifts of both of you; and, now that you are both the same in sentiment, but one thing is wanting."