“Daring man,” cried Lockman, “you are not yet ripe, I will chastise you slowly.” So saying he left him.
“Poor Hussain!” sighed Ibrahim as he looked on the pale man. Hussain opened his eyes, gave a friendly smile, and extended his hand to him, saying,
“I heard what passed between you and the sorcerer; whose wicked design has ill succeeded. What was to separate us has united us. I now know you; can you forgive me?”
Ibrahim embracing him said, “Will you again be my friend?”
“For life and death,” said Hussain, returning the embrace of his former enemy. They knelt down, and Mahommed’s holy moon shone on their reconciliation, which was sealed by a kiss, as she cast her pale gleam over the desert, and the faint reflection from the sand was increased, as if rejoicing that from the desert of affliction a flower had sprung, which the Eden of a life of luxury could not produce.
Lockman returned, looked at the reconciled friends, and burst into a hideous laugh. “I suppose you now fancy yourselves happy, and that you have gained peace of mind,” he said; “do not think it. Hussain is lost for ever. Allah has turned his eyes from him for endeavouring to shorten the days of his child and his own. He is mine for ever!”
“None possesses that eternal power but Allah,” cried Hussain, who had now recovered. “Having saved my life, you have, against your will, assisted my salvation. As long as there is life there is hope; as long as man lives he may become better.”
“You have killed your daughter,” said Lockman; “you have spilled her blood, you are an infanticide!”
Hussain turned pale.
“She lives,” cried a sweet voice from on high, “take courage and hope.”