“It is finished. Art content, O beloved?”
“May thy goods increase, O Ali, O my dear brother!” murmured the Thief, still gloating on the bloody knife. Then, on a sudden prompting, he stretched out his arms and caught Ali to his breast in a passionate embrace.
It was Ali’s turn to weep convulsively. They clung together, sobbing for joy in their mutual devotion.
“Now let us go, O delight,” murmured Ali, at length. “One beheld the deed. He was afar off and he fled. It may be he will tell others.”
“I am ready,” replied the Thief, wiping the dagger within the breast of his raiment.
Just then a woman’s shriek rent the air, giving them pause. Ali whispered:
“They have found the dead pig. Wait a little, O my soul. Let us once more hide behind the stall.”
The sound of lamentation continued but a little while. They heard a man’s voice give directions, followed by the slam of a door. Then all was still.
A minute longer they crouched in hiding. Then Ali helped his injured love to rise. Nesìb’s arm round Ali’s neck, Ali’s arm about Nesìb supporting him, they emerged into the sunlight.
They had not accomplished many steps from their retreat, when the sherbet seller, returning to his stall, accosted them.