Yousef.[In hatft.] The Simoon comes. Where is the Frank?
Biskra. He will be here in a little space.
Yousef. Why dost thou not slay him at once?
Biskra. Nay, because he is going to do that himself. If I were to do it the whites would kill the whole of our tribe, for they know that I was the guide Ali—though they do not know that I am the maid Biskra.
Yousef. He is to do it himself? How is that to be?
Biskra. Dost not know the Simoon? Thou knowest that Simoon shrivels up the brains of the whites like dates, and makes them stricken with panic, so that life is hateful to them and they fly out into the great unknown.
Yousef. I have heard such things, and in the last combat six Franks lifted their hands against themselves. For snow has fallen on the mountains and in half-an-hour all may be over. Biskra, canst thou hate?
Biskra. Thou askest if I can hate? My hate is boundless as the waste, burning as the sun, and stronger than my love. Rvery hour of joy they have stolen from me since they killed Ali has gathered together like poison in a viper’s fangs, and what Simoon does not wreak that will I wreak myself.
Yousef. That is well spoken, Biskra, and thou shalt do as thou hast said. My hate has withered like grass in the autumn since my eyes have had sight of thee. Take strength from me and be the arrow from my bow.
Biskra. Embrace me, Yousef; embrace me.