Bending down over her, he resolutely unclasped the fair crossed arms, and seized the delicate small hands in a close grip.
“Lilith! Lilith!” he called imperiously.
A long and heavy pause ensued,—then the girl’s limbs quivered violently as though moved by a sudden convulsion, and her lips parted in the utterance of the usual formula—
“I am here.”
“Here at last, but you have been absent long”—said El-Râmi with some reproach, “Too long. And you have forgotten your promise.”
“Forgotten!” she echoed—“O doubting spirit! Do such as I am, ever forget?”
Her thrilling accents awed him a little, but he pursued his own way with her, undauntedly.
“Then why have you not fulfilled it?” he demanded—“The strongest patience may tire. I have waited and watched, as you bade me—but now—now I am weary of waiting.”
Oh, what a sigh broke from her lips!
“I am weary too”—she said—“The angels are weary. God is weary. All Creation is weary—of Doubt.”