"I say wait, Bardissi! He who wishes to attain fortune must not grasp at it with too quick a hand. He may catch hold of a corner of its mantle, but fortune itself might escape him. Only he who is calm and collected can depend on securing it, Bardissi. Therefore, I say, wait! Yet, this will I say, in addition," continued he, his countenance assuming a milder expression, "Give me your hand before we part. It is the hand of a brave man, and I am glad to press it in my own."Bardissi joyously laid his broad, sinewy hand in Mohammed's, and grasped it firmly.
"I repeat it, Bardissi, wait. In eight days you shall have an answer from me. Perhaps it will, be communicated to you through common report--perhaps secretly. Therefore, name some one through whom Ican communicate with you."
Bardissi made no answer, but glanced uneasily at Mohammed. The latter smiled.
"You are suspicious; you have already experienced too much treachery from your enemies not to fear Mohammed Ali might prove like the rest. I require no answer. In case of necessity, I will send you an answer through Mourad's widow, Sitta Nefysseh.""Sbe is our mistress, and we all reverence and obey her as we should, the widow of our great chieftain.""I know you all honor and love her!" said Mohammed, with a slight smile. "May I now depart?"Bardissi inclined his head. "You are free! I shall ride on in advance, and deprive myself of the pleasure of accompanying you through the desert. We might be seen together, and suspicion excited against you. I ride in that direction. The dromedary will bear you back to your camp by a shorter route across the desert. She who brought you here will also accompany you back. She knows the way, and is discreet and cautious, like her father. My horse and servants await me behind that hill. And now let us part!""Let us part!" repeated Mohammed, extending his hand for a parting grasp.
"I will accompany you to the tent," said Bardissi," and give orders to have the dromedary saddled for you while you are strengthening yourself for the ride."They walked to the tent side by side, and Bardissi called the sheik, and gave him his instructions.
Mohammed entered the tent. No one was there. He walked into the inner apartment, and so noiselessly that his step was not heard by her who stood behind the partition, by Butheita. She stood there, her head bowed down, and her gaze fixed on the spot where she had broken bread with Mohammed. Now, hearing her name murmured behind her, she started and turned around. He observed that her manner was sad, and that the smile had departed from her lips.
"You are sad, Butheita," whispered he, approaching her.
She cast down her eyes before his glance. "You are going away," said she. "Father is already saddling the dromedary, and you are about to leave us.""I must go," said be, gently. "Duty calls me away, while love would gladly hold me back. But I am a man, and must listen to the voice of duty only. They say you are to accompany, and show me the way?"She shook her head resolutely. "I beg you, say that you do not wish it, that you desire my father to accompany you.""And why should I do so?" asked he, gazing searchingly into her countenance. "Do you hate me so that you are unwilling to pass an hour in my company? Did I conduct myself unbecomingly while we were together in the palanquin this morning? Why will you not accord me the happiness of riding across the desert with you again? Why do you hate me?"She remained silent for a while, and then slowly shook her head.
"No, it is not that; it is something quite different. It pains me to see you leave. This morning, I could ride with you across the desert; then I did not know you, and did not fear you.""And now you are afraid of me?" said he, gazing in her eyes intently.
"No, not afraid of you, but afraid of myself," said she, in a low voice. "I am afraid I might love you; and that may not be," cried she, in a firmer tone. "You are a great and distinguished man, and would laugh at the poor Bedouin child if she should regard you otherwise than as a great sarechsme, who had condescended to honor her father's tent by accepting his daughter's hospitality. I had best not ride with you. And I have already told father so.""And the reason, too, Butheita? " said he, smiling.
"No, sarechsme! I told father I was weary with my long ride. He loves me dearly, and, although he had intended returning with the bey to collect the spoils from the field, he is, nevertheless, ready to accompany you if you will permit him.""I am to permit you to cause me pain, and deny myself a great happiness, Butheita. Yet, I understand you, and must say that Irejoice to see you act as you do. I rejoice in you, my star-eyed desert queen! Be assured, Mohammed Ali will never forget you. And now, tell me, will you not quite forget me either?""No, that I will not, sarechsme."
"Will you also be mindful of your promise to your father to allow him only to kiss you, who shall one day lead you to his home?""I shall ever be mindful of this promise.""Then, Butheita, then will I kiss you," cried he, and with passionate violence he clasped her in his arms, and pressed a kiss on her lips. He then turned and left the tent.
Butheita sank down upon the mat, and with outstretched arms she knelt there, motionless, a statue of ecstasy, of blissful love.
Mohammed stepped out before the tent, and beckoned to the sheik to approach.
"I beg that you will accompany me, sheik; it will be too fatiguing for your daughter to take this ride the second time.""Gladly, master; she has already told me so herself, and I am ready," said he, commanding the dromedary to kneel down. Mohammed sprang into the palanquin, and the sheik followed him.
