"No."
"Whither wilt thou go?"
Azrael answered nothing, but pointed mutely to the sky.
The boatman did not understand much about it; but, anyhow, he understood that he could not give the damsel a lift up there, so he drew back his canoe and departed.
Azrael remained alone on the island, quite alone; for that day everyone had been withdrawn by command of the Vizier; the damsels, the guards, and the eunuchs had all migrated to the fortress, the paradise was empty and uninhabited.
Azrael strolled the whole length of the shore of the island. The mortars were still thundering down from the fortress, the horsemen were still shouting on the river's bank, the signal fires were blazing on the bastions, the night was dark, the wind blew tempestuously and scattered the leaves of the trees—but she saw neither the beacon fires, nor the darkness; she heard neither the tumult of men nor the howling of the blast; in her soul there was the light of heaven and an angelic harmony with which no rumour, no shape of the outer world would intermingle.
She came to the kiosk in the centre of the island. Wandering aimlessly she had hit upon the labyrinthine way to it unawares. The sudden view of the summer-house startled her, and it awoke a two-fold sensation in her heart, it appealed equally to her memory and her imagination. She bethought her of the resolve she had made on coming to the island. She remembered that when she parted from the youth of her heart she had said: "When thou comest to thy kiosk, do not lie down to sleep; sit down at thy window, and look towards the island in the direction of the dawn. This night will be soon over, and the dawn will dawn more quickly than at other times. When thou seest it think of me and say for me the prayer of direction for the departing."
She reflected that the youth must now be sitting at the window, looking towards the island, with his fine eyes weary of staring into the darkness. She would not weary those fine eyes for long.
She hastily opened the door with her silver key and entered the hall. A hanging lamp was burning in the room just as the servants had left it in the morning. She drew forth a wax taper, and having lit it, proceeded to the other rooms, which opened one out of another, and whose floors were covered by precious oriental carpets, whose walls were inlaid with all manner of woods brought from foreign countries, and covered with tapestries, all splendid masterpieces of eastern art; the atmosphere of the rooms was heavy with intoxicating perfumes.
All this was frightful, abominable to her now. As she walked over the carpets, it was as if she were stepping on burning coals; when she inhaled the scented atmosphere, it was as though she were breathing the corruption of the pestilence; everything in these rooms awoke memories of sin and disgust in her heart—costly costumes, porcelain vases, silver bowls, all of them the playthings of loathsome moments, whose keenest punishment was that she was obliged to remember them.