"And thou thyself?"
"I will guide thee to the opposite shore, there an old family servant of thy father's awaits thee with saddled mules. He loves thee dearly, and will bring thee into that quiet valley and he must never leave thee."
"And thou?"
"This little coffer thou wilt take with thee; it contains money which I got from thy father; no curse, no blood is upon it, it shall be thine and thy children's."
"And thou?" inquired Gül-Bejáze for the third time, and she was very near to bursting into tears.
"I shall have to return to Stambul. But I will come after thee. Perhaps to-morrow, perhaps the day after to-morrow, perhaps later still. It may be very much sooner, it may be much later. But thou wait for me. Every evening spread the table for me, for thou knowest not when I may arrive."
The tears of Gül-Bejáze began to fall upon the child she held to her breast.
"Why weepest thou?" asked Halil. "'Tis foolish of thee. Leave-taking is short, suspense only is long. It will be better with thee than with me, for thou wilt have the child while I shall have nothing left, yet I do not weep because we shall so soon meet again."
Meanwhile they had reached the shore, the old servant was awaiting them with the two mules. Halil helped his wife to descend from the boat.
Gül-Bejáze buried her head in her husband's bosom and tenderly embraced him.