Noiselessly, her feet scarcely touching the ground, the veiled figure swept onward. The light of the moon enveloped her as with a silver veil, and the stars gazed at her wonderingly, as if to follow with their eyes the lovely being who walks on in solitude through the darkness of night.
She did not fear the solitude, for the welis guarded the innocent maiden, and kept from her the evil spirits and ghins.
The solitude had no terrors for her, but she shrank back with alarm when the moon suddenly cast a long shadow across her pathway.
The shadow of a man! She stood still for a moment in a listening attitude.
"Allah protect me!" she murmured, as she drew her veil more closely about her and walked on.
She had almost reached the stairway when the shadow came close to her side, and a hand was laid on her shoulder.
"Stay, Masa," whispered a voice.
She trembled and sought to walk on, but her feet seemed chained to the ground. She thought the ghins were detaining her, and she prayed to Allah from her inmost soul to release her from their dread enchantment.
"Fear me not, Masa," said a kindly voice; "listen to me. I am no enemy."
"I do not fear you," said she, in low, faint tones. "I fear neither man nor the evil ghins, for the welis guard me, and my mother's eyes watch over me. Allah, too, is always with me wherever I go, by night or day. Yet I know that you are my enemy, because you are my father's enemy."
"Oh, do not say this! Your words pierce my heart."
"But yet you are my enemy, for you are my father's enemy; I know you, I recognize the fierce youth who took my father prisoner at the mosque this morning. It was you! I know you well, and my heart is breaking. You are the author of my father's misery. You do evil, and evil thoughts fill your heart. Let me pass, do not detain me! Let me return to my father's house. Masa must obey her father and master. Remove your hand from my shoulder. It does not beseem a stranger to touch a chaste maiden with his impure hand. Let me pass."
"You say I am your enemy, your father's enemy. Believe me, Masa, I am not your enemy, not your father's enemy. An evil destiny has ordained that Mohammed Ali should be the instrument, the sword of justice, that he should grieve and wound her he would so gladly shield. The evil ghins have also ordained that I should carry out the law and assume a threatening attitude toward your father. I must submit to what Allah ordains, and proceed in the line of my duty. But, Masa, you shall know that I am neither yours nor your father's enemy. You must know that I would shed my heart's blood to make undone that which I have commenced. O Masa, had I sooner beheld these eyes, that now look upon me with the brilliancy of the stars in heaven, had I sooner beheld the countenance that now beams upon me with the brightness of the young day, never would my mother's son have assumed a threatening attitude toward your father, never would Mohammed have undertaken to enforce the law against him. True, the evil ghins have brought this about, but hearken to me, Masa, and consider well that your father's welfare is at stake."
"I will not hear you," said she, tremblingly.
" I swear, by the spirit of my mother, that I have nothing to conceal before Allah and the prophet. Do not wound me, Masa, with your alarm. You seemed to me this morning the loveliest of women; until then Sitta Khadra was her son's only love. You must know that when she had died, Mohammed Ali fled into solitude and intended to take his own life. But in the solitude, Allah said to him: 'The life I have given you, bear with manfully, and take upon yourself the sufferings I see fit to visit upon you.'
"I bowed submissively to his commands; I left my solitude and raised myself by my sorrow as by a pillar. But in you I seemed to see my mother's spirit; then pain vanished from my heart, and my mother seemed to be regarding me through your eyes. Therefore, Masa, have I followed you. I have come to say that which brings the blush to my inmost soul, that which the ear of no other human being shall ever hear. In the name of my mother, I beseech you, do not let it be here upon this open path where men may pass, and which the foot of man has desecrated. In the name of the mother you love so well as you this morning declared in the mosque, and in the name of my mother whom I have loved as few sons have loved their mothers, in the name of the moon, and in the name of the golden stars that glitter above us, I entreat you, mount with me to the summit of the rock. There will Mohammed speak words to you that his tongue has never uttered before. There he will advise you how to save your father, and help the men of Praousta."
She looked up to the crest of the rock, bathed in the soft moonlight.
"You would lead me up there?" murmured she.
"I will lead you safely, or follow you, as the slave follows his mistress. The way is steep, but your feet are active as those of the gazelle. I now remember having sometimes observed your white figure and your flying footstep. Lightly like the dove have I seen you flit from rock to rock, and I have followed you with reverence. Yes, I have long known you; I have often seen you, and I know that the white dove need only spread her wings to flutter up to the Ear of Bucephalus. O Masa, I entreat you, spread your wings and fly! There I will speak with you of your father and of the future, of yours and of mine. Will you grant my request?"
She did not reply, but only regarded him with an inquiring, doubtful look.
Was it a mere accident, or had he purposely placed himself so that the light of the now waning moon shone full in his face? Was it by chance that he was so placed that a shadow was thrown over the place where she stood, which enabled her to gaze at him from out the darkness with her large, luminous eyes?
"I entreat you, Masa, go not down to your father's house, but ascend with me to the Ear of Bucephalus. There, where none but Allah and Nature can hear my words, I will speak to you of your father, and of the men of the village."
She drew her veil more closely about her and bowed her head. "Lead the way, Mohammed Ali, and I will follow."
And he, overwhelmed with happiness, knelt down and tenderly kissed the little foot that peeped out from beneath her white garments. Then he arose, folded his arms upon his breast, and bowed his head in reverence before his queen.
"Your slave will lead the way," said he, softly; "be merciful, and follow him."
He then turned and began the ascent of the path that leads up to the crest of the rock. Masa followed, praying to herself that her mother's spirit might accompany and guard her from all danger.
Both were silent; Mohammed hastened on from rock to rock, higher and higher.
Mohammed was right. Masa fluttered lightly from cliff to cliff like a white dove.
At times he stood still and looked behind him.
It perhaps occurred to him that he was walking too rapidly, and should give her time to rest. Or he feared, perhaps, the heavenly form might suddenly vanish like the vision of a dream.
"See," said he, pointing to the moon now waxing pale in the heavens. "See, the night is drawing to a close, and day is about to break. I wish to see the sun rise with you, O Masa!"
"I, too, desire it," was whispered in her heart, but her lips did not utter the words. "Lead the way, I follow you."
The whispering of the lips was to him as the command of a sovereign; he quickly turned and continued the ascent.
They had now reached the crest. And there, high above all earthly care and sorrow, the two, the youth and maiden stood, alone upon the lofty plateau.
They stood upon the spot of which Mohammed had said that it was not yet desecrated by the foot of man. Here it was lonely and solemn; here Allah and holy Nature could alone hear his words. And now, overcome by the wondrous picture that lay spread out before them, and perhaps unconsciously, Mohammed took the girl's hand; and, without being conscious of it, she allowed him to take it in his own and pass it to his lips.
The moon had vanished beneath the horizon, and there, where heaven and earth seemed united in sweet harmony, a purple hue, like a messenger from God, gradually overspread the sky. Who could tell where the earth ended and the heavens began; where the waves ceased to murmur and were commingled with the skies in Godlike majesty and love? Little purple clouds chased each other across the heavens like flying cupids, and here and there a star still faintly sparkling as if to tell of the Divine mysteries of creation.
And now the waters of the sea suddenly begin to swell, and the waves roll higher; they rear their white crests aloft, and a whispering pervades the air, as though the spirits of heaven and earth were pronouncing the morning prayer of the new day.
Upon the crest of the rock stand these two human beings, regarding the fading stars and the rising sun, hand-in-hand--they, too, a part of the holy universe created by Allah in the fulness of his grace. And their souls and hearts are as innocent as were those of the first human pair in paradise, before the alluring voice of the serpent had yet been heard. The light of day still shines, as through a veil, but a rosy hue gradually overspreads the heavens, and, at last, the sun rises, in all its splendor from out the sea, as on the first morning of creation, and on each succeeding morning since, comes this holy, ever-renewed mystery of the sunrise, that tells of the surpassing glory of God. A wondrous murmuring rises up from the sea, and the birds are all awake, exulting in the brightness of the morning. The palm, the olive, and the myrtle groves, rustle in the breeze. The lark soars heavenward, singing its morning greeting. Even the eagle has spread his pinions, and is mounting aloft from his nest in the neighboring rocks, to do homage to the sun. It is as though all Nature were crying, exultingly, "The new day has awakened!"
"The sun has risen, Masa," cried Mohammed--"the night is past. As often as I have wandered among these rocks, never before has morning seemed so fair--never before have the sun's rays so filled my heart with warmth. Heretofore, the sunrise was but the signal for me to go in pursuit of game, or to prepare to cross over to Imbro, to look after the fishermen's nets, set out the day before. But to-day Allah proclaims to me why it is that the sunlight is so glorious, that the eagle soars so proudly aloft, that the waves surge so grandly. 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. "May I not go to your father and entreat him to give me the pure maiden, that she may accompany me through day and night?"
"No, do not speak thus," she repeated, tremblingly. "You told me you would speak of my father--speak of him, Mohammed Ali."
"Yes; of your father," murmured he. "I had so much, so very much to say to you, and now it seems to me that all is already said. What remains is as nothing, and is forgotten."
"You are mocking me," said she, gently. "You only wished to see if my father's daughter would be foolish enough to follow you where she should never go except at her father's side, or accompanied by women. You have punished me, Mohammed, for my folly and boldness in following you and confiding in you. If you have nothing to say to me, then let me quickly go and return to my father's house."
"No, Masa, do not go. I did not intend to mock you; I really had so much to say to you! Yet I know not how it is with me; it seems to me that if I have been transformed, created anew; that yesterday and its events are forgotten. I am as a new, a different being."
He could not hear the voice that whispered in her heart also, that the dawn of a new day had cast its spell over them both.
"Oh, speak to me of my father," she cried, in anxious tones.
"Yes, I will; I will call reason to my aid. Your father is my prisoner, and I have sworn that I would bring the rebels back to submission, and honor requires that I should finish what I have undertaken. I now deplore it in my inmost soul, now that the magic of your eyes has transformed me, and made of the fierce combatant a man who longs to fall at your feet, and pour out his heart's agony and bliss. And yet I cannot undo what I have begun. I registered an oath in the presence of the men of Praousta, and told them: --If you do not on the morrow comply with what I have commanded, in the name of the tschorbadji, I shall behead the prisoners that Allah has delivered into my hands!'"
"O my father!" cried Masa, loudly, in tones of anguish.
"I cannot do otherwise," said Mohammed, heaving a deep sigh. "I have pledged my honor that it should be so. I cannot recall my oath. But I can die, and die I will; no other resource is left me. I must choose between your father's death and mine. I cannot live dishonored and perjured. The tschorbadji can then release the prisoners; and he will do so, for he is kindly disposed, and it was I alone who wished to proceed with severity. And Osman will join you in your entreaties to his father. Now all is clear; now I know what it was I wished to say to you here on Bucephalus. Ah, still so much, and there is but an hour left me! How often have I gazed, from this place, at the heavens above, and the sea beneath; how often seen the sun rise in its splendor! But now that I have gazed in your eyes, Masa, all else is forgotten and extinguished, and for me there exists only the present; no longer a past. Yet I wished to see you once more before my death, and, I entreat you, grant me one request. My mother, Sitta Khadra, once told me that when a man was about to die, Allah's holy spirit is shed upon him, and the best and purest of all the welis is sent down to the dying, that a heavenly atmosphere may surround him even here on earth. It seems to me that you are the weli sent by Allah to him who is about to die. Therefore, remove your veil, that I may behold the brightness of your eyes and the crimson of your lips, and refresh my soul in the light of your countenance. Yes, die I must, and die I will, when I shall have seen the brightness of your eyes!"
"Look at me," said she, softly, "and hear what I have to say; I will not have you die! There must be some other means of saving my father. But you shall not die, for you--"
She spoke no further, but gazed dreamily upward at the heavens.
The sun had risen higher, and now gilded with its rays the crest of the rock. Its golden light illumined the maiden's unveiled countenance, and Mohammed regarded her in ecstasy. Beautiful was she, and faultless; the eternal morning of youth shone in the features that were still more gloriously illumined by the lustre of first love. She seemed to Mohammed the very embodiment of loveliness, chastity, and innocence. In his ecstasy he could find no utterance for that which filled his heart. His whole being, his whole soul, was reflected in his eyes. He lost all control over himself in the presence of this maiden this heavenly image.
"Love is my prayer, and prayer is my love. Look at me ye starlike eyes, and read in my soul what is written there in characters of living flame. 'I love you. I love you!' It is thus my heart speaks to you, and thus will it speak with my last breath. What I now feel is love and death combined heavenly bliss commingling with boundless suffering; I would weep, and yet shout for joy."
Suddenly, Mohammed bounded to his feet, clasped the maiden in his arms, and imprinted a kiss on her lips, a kiss that made her tremble in her inmost being. For a moment, she allowed her head to rest on his shoulder; she then gently released herself from his embrace, drew her veil down over her face, and turned to go.
"Oh, hear me, Masa, and do not be angry!" he cried, entreatingly. "Allah has seen us, and now hears my vow of fidelity. You say I shall live. Then say, too, that I may live for you! I swear to you that I have loved no woman but you, that no other woman shall ever dwell in my harem. Oh, speak, will you be mine, will you love me, and be true to me?"
He paused, and awaited an answer, he waited long, but no answer came. It seemed to him that, with him, all Nature was awaiting an answer. The foliage of the trees ceased rustling, the songs of the birds were hushed, the eagle folded his pinions in the nest to which he had just returned, and gazed fixedly at the sun. The waves subdued their murmurings, and even the wind held its breath; all Nature was mute, and yet no answer came from the maiden's pure lips.
"O Masa, will you be true to me, will you love me, will you one day come with me to my home?" urged the youth in tones of passionate entreaty.
Her lips parted, and, in low, soft tones, like spirit-whisperings, she murmured, "Yes, I love you, and will be true to you."
He hears her, and bows down, and kisses the hem of her veil.
Sacred is the woman of a man's first love; sacred is the moment when he avows to her his love; sacred is the moment when he dares, for the first time, to approach and touch her.
But suddenly an emotion of horror thrills his whole being.
"O Masa, in my ecstasy, I forgot that I have come here to die, because I cannot live unless my honor is vindicated."
"To die?" said the maiden, with a gentle smile. "Why die now, when we have only just begun to live?"
"I must die that your father may live. I have already told you, Masa, that I have sworn by my honor, that the men of Praousta shall pay the double tax, as they are in duty bound to do. I have pledged my honor, that is, my life. Your father will not pay, and I have sworn by Allah and the prophets that the heads of the four prisoners shall fall if the double tax is not paid. You see now that I must die, that my honor may not suffer. When I am dead you can all settle the matter as you think best; the governor may then show mercy, and relieve them of the tax. But I cannot. And yet I cannot allow Masa's father to die, for Masa would weep for him, and her every tear would accuse me."
"You shall not die, Mohammed," murmured the maiden. "No, you shall not die. O Mohammed, listen to my words. I conjure you, do not be cruel. You say I should weep if you killed my father; but do you not suppose that Masa's eyes would also shed tears if her father should rob her of your life?"
"O Masa!" exclaimed Mohammed, in tones of ecstasy, as he extended his arms toward her.
She stepped back, and gently motioned to him not to touch her.
"Let us demean ourselves as we are commanded, as is becoming before Allah, the prophets, and the good spirits who hover about us; as is becoming in the presence of your mother, and of mine, who are looking down upon us; as a youth and maiden should who have not yet been united in the mosque. Do not touch me, but listen to what Masa has to say: You shall not die for my sake; you shall not fill my eyes with tears, and my soul with anguish. You shall live, Mohammed, that my whole existence may be yours, and yours mine! Let us think and dream of this; let us hope for this, and let us do all we can to make of this dream reality. and of this hope fulfilment. I shall go down to Praousta. I shall speak to them, and conjure them to pay this double tax in spite of my father's opposition. When they shall have done this, Mohammed, your honor will be saved, my father's life preserved, and his daughter's heart freed from anguish. The rest, Mohammed, we must leave to the good spirits, to the welis and the intercession of our mothers."
"But if the men should still refuse," said Mohammed--"and I know they will," he added, gloomily.
"They will not refuse. My lips will possess a charm to persuade them to do what we wish. They will not refuse. My love and anxiety for my father will give to my words such power that they must do, although with reluctance, what the daughter demands of them to save the father's life. I conjure you, Mohammed, wait patiently at least until the hour of second prayer. Prolong the time until then. Allow me to announce this to them; to bear a message to them from my father and from you; allow me to say: 'Mohammed will wait until the hour of second prayer; you can deliberate until then, and not until then, if it be necessary to pay the tax. Yet if, when the hour arrives, you do not appear, my father's life is lost, and you will be his murderers.' I will speak to them thus, and will entreat them with tears, and believe me, these men are good at heart, and full of tenderness and mercy. They, too, dearly love my father, the sheik, and they also love the ulemas, the wise men of the place, and they will surely yield to my entreaties if you will only wait, Mohammed."
As she finished speaking, she turned the gaze of her glowing eyes full upon him. He looked into the depths of these eyes, and a sweet tremor coursed through his whole soul.
"See how great is your power over me, Masa. Mohammed lays his honor, his pledged word, at your feet, and does what you request: I will wait until the hour of the second prayer. May Allah give strength to your words, and bless the charm of your crimson lips with success! I will wait. But one thing, Masa, tell me now, before you go."
"What is it? " asked she. But she seemed to know already, for she blushingly averted her eyes.
" 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?"
When he uttered these words his face was so near hers that she felt his breath on her cheeks--so near, that his eyes looked into the depths of her own and saw themselves reflected there.
"Do you know that I love you?"
A slight tremor possessed itself of all her being, and she bowed her head in confusion.
"Yes, Mohammed, I know that you love me."
He suddenly raised the white veil from her countenance, and softly and gently kissed her lips, as softly and gently as the bee touches with its wings the crimson rose in search of its sweetness. He then quickly let fall her veil again. "Swear, Masa, that no other man's hand shall ever raise this veil!"
"O Mohammed, how can I?' said she, in soft, pleading tones. "Am I not my father's slave, is not his daughter's life in his hands, must I not do what he commands? But this I can swear: that I will love you, Mohammed, that I will pray to Allah to bless our love. And now let me tell you, I not only know that you love me, but I also know that Masa's heart is yours, for it beats so loudly, so stormily, and I feel so happy. This I can swear, too, Mohammed, that my heart will remain true to you, and that I will rather die, than of my own free will allow another man to raise my veil."
"And this I can swear, Masa, that you shall not die," said, he, and his voice sounded almost harsh and threatening. "No, you shall not die, Masa! You shall live, and live for me, the husband of your future. And now, come, I will conduct you to the rocky stairway. This you will permit me to do."
She gently shook her head, raised her hand, and pointed to the landscape that lay spread out below in the bright sunshine.
"No, Mohammed! You called me a white dove. Then let the white dove fly away on its mission. You would not be the huntsman that takes its life? See, beneath us lies Cavalla, where people are now beginning to move about. The eyes of gossips might see me, and the sharp tongues of calumny defame my father's daughter. That may not be, for the sake of my good name, and for your sake too, Mohammed. Let me go down alone, and you remain until you see me descending the stairway. Do not go down until then. Do not give evil tongues occasion to suspect and speak ill of me. Let the white dove that is to wing her flight, when it pleases Allah, to the nest you have prepared for her, be pure and with. out reproach. Do not speak one more word, and do not look at me only see how weak I am: if you look at me again I shall stand still and wait till you command me to go. Turn away from me and let me go. Let us both pray to Allah that our wishes may be granted."
He turns away as she requested, and gazes in the opposite direction, at the blue sky and the foaming sea. He sees her not, but the pain he feels tells him Masa is leaving; he knows, without hearing her footsteps, that she is walking from him. He remains above as she had requested. After a while he turns around and looks after her. He sees the white dove fluttering downward from rock to rock, and at last disappear on the stairway that leads to Praousta.
"May Allah bless her mission, that I may live, live for Masa, for her I love so passionately! All that I do shall henceforth be for her, and Mohammed's life will be bliss and sunshine."
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