“Speak not of that,” I said firmly. “Place thy knife in its sheath. I love thee, Zoraida, I trust in thee, and none shall ever come between us.”
“Dost thou place thy faith in me implicitly, notwithstanding that I appear in thine eyes debased, and am unable to give thee explanation?” she asked, half credulously, through her blinding tears.
The jewels upon her flashed with a brilliancy that was dazzling, and the sweet odours of her apartment seemed intoxicating.
“I do,” I answered, fervently kissing her with a mad, fierce passion. “Indeed, had it not been for thine exertions, my bones would long ago have been stripped by the vultures.”
“Ah! my Amîn, thou too art performing for me a mission, the result of which will effect stranger things than thou hast ever dreamed,” she exclaimed earnestly; adding, “Our story-tellers relate wondrous things, but none have described such marvels as thou shalt behold. I told thee in Algiers that I was in peril of death, and that thou couldst avert the danger that threatened. These words I now repeat, and trust in thee to save me.”
“To save thee I will again face our enemies fearlessly, and strive to reach the imam who holdeth the Secret, even though I have been told that the Omen of the Camel’s Hoof hath been revealed unto me,” I said, entranced by her beauty, and smiling in an endeavour to chase away the gloomy shadow that seemed to have settled upon her.
“Yes,” she answered, slowly winding both arms about my neck, and looking up to me with big, tear-stained eyes. “The mark, to thee invisible, is upon thy brow, yet hath not that presage of evil already been fulfilled in thy failure to elucidate the Mystery of the Crescent? Is it not possible that henceforward good fortune and success may attend thine efforts?”
“Truly, O my beloved One of Wondrous Beauty!” I said, “thy words renew hope within me, and restore confidence. I will seek the imam of the Mesállaje, and at any risk learn the hidden wonders.”
In silence she gazed at me with a look of unutterable sadness. The pallor of her countenance enhanced her delicate beauty, and the trembling of her hands showed me how intensely agitated she had become. She loved me with all the fiery passion of her race, yet it seemed as though she kept from me, with tantalising persistency, just those facts I desired explained. She seemed half incredulous, too, that I should be prepared to make another strenuous effort to reach Mohammed ben Ishak merely upon the expression of her desire, for after a short silence, during which her peach-like cheek, fragrant with perfume, lay against mine, she suddenly exclaimed—