Turning her brilliant eyes to mine, she hesitated.
“True, O Cecil,” she exclaimed, after a short, silent interval, “I have power that is not vouchsafed to some; but what thou hast seen to-night is not so wonderful as the secret contained within this piece of Damascus steel;” and she raised the Crescent for me to gaze upon.
“What secret can a piece of metal possibly contain?” I inquired, almost inclined to laugh at her earnest assertion.
“Thou thinkest that I fool thee,” she answered in a tone of reproach. “I tell thee, nevertheless, that knowledge of certain things giveth me power over both friend and enemy, power that I use at will for good or for evil. They who are cursed from my lips find no solace in this life, and descend to Eblis, where hot winds blow and there is no water; but those who have my blessing prosper, grow wealthy, and find peace.”
“Have I thy blessing?”
“Thou hast,” she murmured calmly, raising her lips to mine in a long, fierce caress. “My wishes are that thou mayest find happiness and riches, and that thou mayest receive the mercy of the Merciful is my heartfelt desire.”
“My only happiness is at thy side,” I said, with fervent promptitude.
“Ah! it is, alas! but brief,” she replied, sighing. “There are circumstances which prevent our marriage—even though we love each other so well.”
“Circumstances? What are they? Tell me. Thou always speakest in enigmas.”
“The first and most serious is the uncertainty of my life. Even to-night I may die;” and she raised her finely-moulded hand and thoughtfully examined my ancient signet ring upon her finger.