Quarin's features were convulsed with distress, and tears stood in his eyes. His voice was very tremulous as he replied "Yes, sire, it is dangerous." The emperor's countentance remained perfectly calm. "Can you tell me with any degree of precision how long I have to live?" "No, sire; you may live yet for several weeks, or some excitement may put an end to your existence in a few days.
"Gazelle, have pity on your lover." She seemed not to have heard him, bowed down over her instrument, and played in such loud, shrill tones, that it almost deafened Mohammed, who well understood Butheita's motive in playing so. He smiled at her in silence. Butheita laughed. "You see my song has gladdened you, and your countentance smiles again. O joy! See, there in the distance!