She takes his hand, presses it in her own, and looks at him earnestly.
"Yes, after so long a separation; do you know how long we have been separated? Do you feel it in your heart?"
"I well know bow long, Ada. We have been separated five years," he replies, with a kindly smile. "You see five years have effected great changes."
"Yes," murmurs she, releasing his hand. "They have brought about great changes. I see it, Mohammed."
"But, dear Ada, my heart and my affection for you are unchanged," he says, gently. "I shall ever honor you, Ada, as my first wife, as the mother of my first-born sons. Yes, as my first wife."
She bows her head. She understands the tone with which Mohammed had pronounced that fearful word. Yes, she understands it, and bows her head in humility. And what would opposition avail her? The law of the prophet allows the man to have several wives. Love is fleeting, and its ardor soon passes away after marriage. Friendship is the successor of love, and men say this is happiness.
The women sigh, and bow their heads in silence.
What would it avail Ada to rise in arms against Mohammed's words,
"My first wife"?
"Yes, Ada, you will ever remain my first wife, the honored mother of my sons. You will ever remain my friend."
Yes, that was the word. She closes her eyes and shudders.