Her countenance radiant with delight, she stands with outstretched arms, as she had stood when she last saw him, and, as then, she whispers: "I love him! oh, I love him! My soul yearns for him! I would clasp him in my arms, and yet—no, it may not be! "murmurs she, interrupting herself and letting her arms sink down to her side. "No, it may not, cannot be! They would kill him! If Bardissi did not, L'Elfi would! And then my oath! O Mourad, be with me in this hour, that I may remain firm! Be strong, my heart! It may not be!"
The door opened, and a slave entered to announce that the Mameluke bey, Youssouf, was waiting at the door with his suite, and humbly begged that he might be permitted to see Sitta Nefysseh.
"Let him enter," said she, making an effort to compose herself."
Tell my women to go into the adjoining room, and to open the door."
Poor woman's heart! So strong in love, and yet so weak! These women and the open door were to stand guard over her heart, and keep her from forgetting all else in his presence.
Now the door opens and Youssouf enters. It seems to her that he has grown taller. His deeds have elevated him, and his countenance is radiant with energy and courage. Yet he kneels down before her, and kisses the hem of her robe.
"Sitta Nefysseh, you bade me go, and I went. Upon my return, my first thoughts were of you. I wished to hear from your sweet lips the word welcome! Do you speak it, Sitta Nefysseh?"
"Welcome, Youssouf Bey! How beautiful that sounds—Youssouf Bey! But rise, it does not become the hero to bend the knee before a woman, before Nefyeseh."
"I was your slave when I went, now that I have returned I am your slave still. And thus should he salute his mistress."
He bends down. lower and kisses the gold-embroidered slipper that clasps her little foot.
"Youssouf!" she cried, in severe tones, "I command you to rise from your knees!"