"The only proof of your gratitude that I ask is, that you stand united. Thank me by pronouncing my name when you stand side by side on the battle-field, from which you have driven the enemy!"
"We will do so. Your name will I pronounce when I go out to battle! And your name will my lips utter, O Sitta Nefysseh, when I sink down upon the bloody field!" Thus spoke both, and then bowed profoundly before Mourad's widow.
"And now you may go," said she, gently. "Walk arm-in-arm through the Muskj Street, that all the world may see that the two greatest Mameluke beys are friends. If these are united, then will the struggle soon terminate. Now go and show the people that you are friends."
"And if they express surprise at our friendship," cried Osman Bey, his eyes sparkling, "we will say Mourad's widow wills it so, and we humbly and cheerfully obey."
"Yes, we will say this," cried l'Elfi, joyously. "Mourad's widow commanded us to be united, and therefore are we united.—And now let us go, Osman Bey; it is, however, not necessary that we walk arm-in- arm here; only when we have passed the threshold of this house shall Osman give me his arm, that the world may see your influence over us."
Osman Bey walked rapidly down the avenue. L'Elfi followed him slowly and hesitatingly, looking back twice at Sitta Nefysseh. The latter waved her hand deprecatingly, and he then rapidly followed Osman.
Sitta Nefysseh sighed profoundly as the two disappeared through the gateway, falling back upon her cushions as if overwhelmed with grief. She heard nothing of the music, that still resounded from the rose-bushes; she heard only the secret and sacred voices which lamented in her soul, and she shuddered at what they said.
"No, no, it may not be," said she to herself. "I saved myself from their importunity by the falsehood of the oath. I never swore to my husband that Mourad's wife would become the wife of no other. It was not because an oath bound her that she rejected them; but because her heart so willed it. Not without love is Mourad's widow; but whom she loves no one must know, no one must even suspect."
She arose and threw back her veil to wipe away the tears that burned her eyes. Suddenly she trembled, a deep blush overspreading her countenance. She saw the young kachef Youssouf coming up the walk. She saw his proud, erect figure, his countenance full of youthful freshness and nobility. She drew heir veil more closely about her; but the veil cannot hide the brightness of her eyes. They fairly sparkled as he advanced. He approached slowly. She seemed not to see him, leaned back on her cushions, raised the crimson rose to her face, and inhaled its fragrance. Kachef Youssouf, his arms folded on his breast, stood at the entrance of the kiosk.
"Sitta Nefysseh, mistress, you command to have your carriage ready, as you wished to drive out at this hour. It is ready, and I humbly ask if it is your pleasure to go now, and if I may have the honor of accompanying your suite, and riding at the side of your carriage?"