"We shall be at the other side directly. The stream is broad just now, for the Danube is in flood."
A few minutes later the negro felt firm ground beneath his feet, and the odalisk perceived the branch of a willow drooping above her face. Quickly seizing it, she drew herself out of the water.
Softly and tremulously she ran towards the grove of trees which concealed what she sought, and on perceiving the singer, whose enchanting tones had enticed her across the water, she stood there all quivering, holding back her breath, and with one hand pressed against her bosom.
The young singer was sitting on a silver linden-tree. He had just finished his song, and had placed the lute by his side, and was gazing sadly before him with his handsome head resting against his hand as if he would have summoned back the spirit which had flown far far away on the wings of his melody.
"Now thou canst speak to him," said Majmun to the damsel.
Azrael stood there, leaning against a weeping willow and gazing, motionless, at the youth.
"Hasten, I say. The night is drawing to an end and we have to get back again. Wherefore dost thou hesitate when thou hast come so far for this very thing?"
The odalisk sighed softly, and leant her head against the mossy tree trunk.
"Thou saidst thou wouldst rush to him, embrace his knees, and greet him with thy lips, and now thou dost stand as if rooted to the spot by spells."
The damsel slowly sank upon her knees and hid her face in her garment.