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"Masa shall repent! Mohammed will wreak vengeance upon humanity for her broken faith." He trembled, and pressed his lips firmly together, when her white figure appeared in the doorway. But Masa saw him not, nor thought of him; her whole attention was occupied with her father. With a joyous cry, and widely-extended arms, she flew to the enclosure.
He stands still, listening for an answer; he breathes heavily when as yet no answer comes, but consoles himself with the thought that she has already gone down, and is awaiting him below, while he is seeking her in her rooms above. Hastily, with the quick step of youth, the sheik descends the stairway again, but Masa was not there. The father's calls grow louder and more anxious.
He kisses the rim of the cup, the place where Masa's crimson lips had touched; he then carefully places it on the cushion beside him. He now takes up the third present the gold-embroidered cuffei he had purchased for Masa from the merchant, Lion. She wore it around her neck for the last time when he pressed her to his heart and took leave of her for a short time, as he thought.
On the contrary, he did not possess even average ability, and his thoughts were occupied almost uniquely with physical pleasures. His mother, Masa, astute, crafty, resourceful, and heroic, well understood the deficiency of his moral endowments, but as her second son, Sanetomo, was only seven years old, Yoriiye's accession presented itself in the light of a necessity.
Mohammed released himself from her arms, and sprang in terror to his feet. "That was the report of a pistol-shot. Alas! it awakens me from my dreams. All bliss is at an end, the earth is again here, and calls me from paradise." "You will leave me, Mohammed!" cried she, rising from her cushion. "Mohammed, you intend to leave me tonight?" "O Masa, I must!
" Tell me that you love me, then I will wait. Tell me, Masa, do you love me?" "How can I tell you what I do not understand?" murmured she. "I do not know what love is." "You do not know what love is?" said he, gazing at her fixedly and almost threateningly. "Then tell me this, Masa, do you know that I love you?"
Farewell, Masa, farewell! Pray for me, and for yourself, and for our love. Farewell, sweet being, my white dove, farewell!" He folds her to his heart once more, and then away, away out into the night. He still hears behind him the tones of the sweet voice crying, "Farewell, farewell!" Then all is still, and he rushes on through the darkness toward the stairway in the rock.
He did not say, "which you have blessed me with." He did not wish to take leave of her with a falsehood on his lips, and his eye glanced over toward the place where Masa had sunk beneath the waves. There lay his happiness buried, and from that grave it had never risen. Ada knew it not, he had never complained, and never seemed discontented; she had thought him happy.
O Masa, I will tell you why it is thus: it is because they are all imbued with the spirit of creation, and this spirit is love eternal, illimitable love." "Speak not thus," said the maiden, tremblingly. "Speak not thus to me. It does not beseem a maiden to listen to a man's words of love without the approval of her father." "But will you not accord me this privilege, Masa?" asked he, gently.
Yes, here in our paradise we are elevated above all earthly care; here is our heaven, and you are the revelation of Allah. O Masa, let me sink down before you in adoration, kiss the hem of your garment, and entreat your forgiveness!"
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