Suppose thou loved me not:
Why didst thou lie? If I was aught to thee,
Why hast thou lied to me? O speak to me—
Am I not worth an answer?
[Weird music and voices are heard outside.]
Ganem.
Yes, by heaven,
It is the old man's voice and Gülistane's!
[Down the stairs come a fluting dwarf and an
effeminate-looking slave playing a lute,
preceded by others with lights; then
Shalnassar, leaning on Gülistane; finally a
eunuch with a whip stuck in his belt.
Gülistane frees herself and comes forward,
seeming to search the floor for something;
the others come forward also. The music
ceases.]
Gülistane (over her shoulder, to Shalnassar).
I miss a tiny jar, of swarthy onyx
And filled with ointment. Art thou ling'ring still,
Thou Bachtjar's daughter? Bend thy lazy back
And try to find it.
[Sobeide is silent, looking at Ganem. ]
Shalnass.
Let it be and come!
I'll give thee hundreds more.
Gülistane.
It was a secret,
The ointment in it.
Ganem (close to Gülistane).
What means this procession?
Shalnass.
Come on, why not? The aged cannot wait.
And ye, advance! Bear lights and make an uproar!
Be drunken: what has night to do with sleep!
Advance up to the door, then stay behind!