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Updated: May 14, 2025
She has many friends; every woman and girl that Masa knows loves her on account of her happy disposition, her innocence, and her loveliness. She will have returned home long since. Djumeila cannot know that her master has gone out, or she would have called him. "Masa is surely at home!" The old man returns to his dwelling with the quick step of a youth.
Eight eunuchs of the mighty pacha, Cousrouf, accompanied by a detachment of twelve soldiers, came down from Cavalla at noon. They went directly to the house of the sheik, and demanded to see him. Djumeila, her eyes red with weeping, came to the door and told them her master was ill with grief and anxiety on account of the disappearance of his daughter.
"Spare your words and listen: Masa has vanished; Masa is not in her room." Djumeila cries out loudly: "Where is Masa? where is my white dove?" She rushes out and runs to her mistress's room; and, not finding her there, falls to weeping and wringing her hands in despair. "Where is my beloved child? she is not with her father, she is not in her room." She then hastens to the other maid-servant.
This morning I found my darling in an agony of grief. She did not go out with the joyous crowd, but remained at home in her own little room. I saw her wringing her hands, and heard her entreating Allah to take her life. I entered her room and said to her: 'O Masa, you know that your Djumeila is true to you. Confide in her. Tell me all that grieves you.
Come, seat yourself beside me, Djumeila, and listen attentively to each word I shall speak to you." The inhabitants of Praousta had insisted on making the release of the sheik and the ulemas the occasion of general rejoicing, and the latter were compelled to yield to the general desire and take part in the festivities.
"Masa, where are you? My beloved child, come to your father." All remains still. No answer comes to the father's anxious calls. The sheik now hurries to the kitchen, where breakfast is being prepared; Djumeila is standing there at the hearth, perfectly composed, attending to her cooking. She salutes her master with a deferential air. "Where is Masa, my daughter? " cries the sheik.
He then shrieks, as if to make himself heard by the heavens and the earth, by the mountains and the sea: "My child is gone! Masa is not in her father's house, Masa is not at the mosque, and not on the beach! Where is my child?" He then swoons away. Djumeila now rushes down the street, and her cries of anguish resound through all Praousta. "Masa, the sheik's daughter, has disappeared!
But then this is not earthly delight, but the bliss of Paradise. I shall enter Paradise to-day, and be one of the blessed; I shall revel in heavenly joys already here on earth as man never did before. Come, Djumeila, and listen to my words. Come to this spot.
And see, Mohammed, day is breaking; the sun will soon shine in upon me, and then Masa will sing the song taught her by Djumeila that speaks of love and stars. I am no longer afraid, Mohammed, for I am your beloved, and the girl whom a hero has chosen for his own; how could she lack courage?" For the second time a loud report now resounded throughout the cave.
Djumeila is standing in the door-way, weeping and lamenting loudly "Master, my child, my Masa, is gone! Allah be merciful, and take me from this earth, now that my Masa is no longer here!" The sheik says not a word. He neither speaks nor weeps, but only beckons to the men who have been drawn to the spot by Djumeila's loud lamentations.
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