"Thanks, thanks, good nurse, I believe you; but swear on her head that you will not break your faith."
"I swear," said the old woman, placing her hands on Azima's head, "I swear she shall be thine."
"Enough," I cried, "I am content; now, one embrace and I leave you. I shall be missed by my father, and he will fear I am murdered in this wild city."
We took a long, passionate embrace, and I tore myself from her. "To-morrow," I cried, "and at the Durgah we will meet, never again to part. So cheer thee, my beloved, and rouse all your energies for what is before you. To-morrow will be an eventful day to us both, and I pray the good Alla a prosperous one."
"It will, it will," cried the nurse; "fear not for anything. Nurgiz is faithful, and shall accompany us; the rest are long ago asleep, and know not you are here. But now begone; further delay is dangerous, and Nurgiz will lead you to the street."
She called, and the same slave who had ushered me in led the way to the door. "By your soul, noble sir, by your father and mother, do not be unfaithful, or it will kill her."
"I need not swear, pretty maiden," said I; "your mistress's beauty has melted my heart, and I am hers for ever."
"Then may Alla protect you, stranger! That is your road, if you go by the one you came yesterday."
I turned down the street and was soon at home. My father was asleep, and I lay down; but, Alla! Alla! how my heart beat and my head throbbed! A thousand times I wished I had carried off the beautiful Azima; a thousand times I cursed my own folly for having left her, when by a word from me she would have forsaken home and every tie and followed me; but it was too late. In the midst of conflicting thoughts and vain regrets I fell asleep; but I had disturbed dreams. I thought her dishonoured lord had surprised us as we tasted draughts of love, and a sword glittered over his head, with which he was about to revenge his disgrace. Again I fancied one of the Moolas of the Durgah to be him; and just as she was about to depart with us, and was stepping into a cart, he rushed to her and seized her, and I vainly endeavoured to drag her from him. I woke in the excitement of the dream, and my father stood over me.
"What, in the name of the Prophet, is the matter with you, Ameer Ali, my son?" cried the old man. "It is the hour of prayer, I came to awake you, and I find you tossing wildly in your sleep and calling on some one, though I could not distinguish the name; it sounded like a woman's—Azima, I think. What have you been about? Had you any bunij last night?"