And now the waters of the sea suddenly begin to swell, and the waves roll higher; they rear their white crests aloft, and a whispering pervades the air, as though the spirits of heaven and earth were pronouncing the morning prayer of the new day.
Upon the crest of the rock stand these two human beings, regarding the fading stars and the rising sun, hand-in-hand—they, too, a part of the holy universe created by Allah in the fulness of his grace. And their souls and hearts are as innocent as were those of the first human pair in paradise, before the alluring voice of the serpent had yet been heard. The light of day still shines, as through a veil, but a rosy hue gradually overspreads the heavens, and, at last, the sun rises, in all its splendor from out the sea, as on the first morning of creation, and on each succeeding morning since, comes this holy, ever-renewed mystery of the sunrise, that tells of the surpassing glory of God. A wondrous murmuring rises up from the sea, and the birds are all awake, exulting in the brightness of the morning. The palm, the olive, and the myrtle groves, rustle in the breeze. The lark soars heavenward, singing its morning greeting. Even the eagle has spread his pinions, and is mounting aloft from his nest in the neighboring rocks, to do homage to the sun. It is as though all Nature were crying, exultingly, "The new day has awakened!"
"The sun has risen, Masa," cried Mohammed—"the night is past. As often as I have wandered among these rocks, never before has morning seemed so fair—never before have the sun's rays so filled my heart with warmth. Heretofore, the sunrise was but the signal for me to go in pursuit of game, or to prepare to cross over to Imbro, to look after the fishermen's nets, set out the day before. But to-day Allah proclaims to me why it is that the sunlight is so glorious, that the eagle soars so proudly aloft, that the waves surge so grandly. O Masa, I will tell you why it is thus: it is because they are all imbued with the spirit of creation, and this spirit is love— eternal, illimitable love."
"Speak not thus," said the maiden, tremblingly. "Speak not thus to me. It does not beseem a maiden to listen to a man's words of love without the approval of her father."
"But will you not accord me this privilege, Masa?" asked he, gently. "May I not go to your father and entreat him to give me the pure maiden, that she may accompany me through day and night?"
"No, do not speak thus," she repeated, tremblingly. "You told me you would speak of my father—speak of him, Mohammed Ali."
"Yes; of your father," murmured he. "I had so much, so very much to say to you, and now it seems to me that all is already said. What remains is as nothing, and is forgotten."
"You are mocking me," said she, gently. "You only wished to see if my father's daughter would be foolish enough to follow you where she should never go except at her father's side, or accompanied by women. You have punished me, Mohammed, for my folly and boldness in following you and confiding in you. If you have nothing to say to me, then let me quickly go and return to my father's house."
"No, Masa, do not go. I did not intend to mock you; I really had so much to say to you! Yet I know not how it is with me; it seems to me that if I have been transformed, created anew; that yesterday and its events are forgotten. I am as a new, a different being."
He could not hear the voice that whispered in her heart also, that the dawn of a new day had cast its spell over them both.