The Witch of Prague & Khaled: A Tale of Arabia. Francis Marion Crawford

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ one have a rich garment and a sum of money, besides their share of the spoil. But as for you, my beloved son, go in and rest, and bind up your wounds, and afterwards there shall be feasting and merriment until the night.'

      'The enemy is not destroyed yet,' answered Khaled. 'Command rather that the army make ready for the pursuit, and when I have washed I will arm myself and we will ride out and pursue the dogs until not one of them is left alive, and by the help of Allah we will take all Shammar and lay it under tribute and bring back the women captive. After that we shall feast more safely, and sleep without fear of being waked by a herd of hyænas in our streets.'

      'Nay, but you must rest before going upon this expedition,' objected the Sultan.

      'The true believer will find rest in the grave, and feasting in paradise,' answered Khaled.

      'This is true. But even the camel must eat and drink on the journey, or both he and his master will perish.'

      'Let us then eat and drink quickly, that we may the sooner go.'

      'As you will, let it be,' said the Sultan, with a sigh, for he loved feasting and music, being now too old to go out and fight himself as he had formerly done.

      Thereupon Khaled went into the harem and returned to Zehowah's apartment. As he went the women gathered round him with cries of gladness and songs of triimiph, staunching the blood that flowed from his wounds with their veils and garments as he walked. And others ran before to prepare the bath and to tell Zehowah of his coming.

      When she saw him she ran forward and took him by the hands and led him in, and herself she bathed his wounds and bound them up with precious balsams of great healing power, not suffering any of the women to help her nor to touch him, but sending them away so that she might be alone with Khaled.

      'I have slain certain of your enemies, Zehowah,' he said, at last, 'and I have driven out the rest from the city.' As yet neither of them had spoken.

      'Do you think that I have not heard what you have done?' Zehowah asked. 'You have saved us all from death and captivity. You are our father and our mother. And now I will bring you food and drink and afterwards you shall sleep.'

      'So you are well pleased with the doings of the husband you have married,' he said.

      He was displeased, for he had supposed that she would love him for his deeds and for his wounds and that she would speak differently. But though she tended him and bound his wounds, and bathed his brow with perfumed waters, and laid pillows under his head and fanned him, as a slave might have done, he saw that there was no warmth in her cheek, and that the depths of her eyes were empty, and that her hands were neither hot nor cold. By all these signs he knew that she felt no love for him, so he spoke coldly to her.

      'Is it for me to be pleased or displeased with the deeds of my lord and master?' she asked. 'Nevertheless, thousands are even now blessing your name and returning thanks to Allah for having sent them a preserver in the hour of danger. I am but one of them.'

      'I would rather see a faint light in your eyes, as of a star rising in the desert than hear the blessings of all the men of Nejed. I would rather that your hand were cold when it touches mine, and your cheek hot when I kiss it, than that your father should bestow upon me all the treasures of Riad.'

      'Is that love?' asked Zehowah with a laugh. 'A cold hand, a hot cheek, a bright eye?'

      Khaled was silent, for he saw that she understood his words but not his meaning. It was now noon and it was very hot, even in the inner shade of the harem, and Khaled was glad to rest after the hard fighting, for his many slight wounds smarted with the healing balsam, and his heart was heavy and discontented.

      Then Zehowah called a slave woman to fan him with a palm leaf, and presently she brought him meat and rice and dates to eat, and cool drink in a golden cup, and she sat at his feet while he refreshed himself.

      'How many did you slay with your own hand?' she asked at last, taking up the good sword which lay beside him on the carpet.

      CHAPTER IV

       Table of Contents

      Khaled pondered deeply, being uncertain what to do, and trying to find out some action which could win for him what he wanted. Zehowah received no answer to her question as to the number of enemies he had slain and she did not ask again, for she thought that he was weary and wished to rest in silence.

      'What do you like best in the whole world?' he asked after a long time, to see what she would say.

      'I like you best,' she answered, smiling, while she still played with his sword.

      'That is very strange,' Khaled answered, musing. But the colour rose darkly in his cheeks above his beard, for he was pleased now as he had been displeased before.

      'Why is it strange?' asked Zehowah. 'Are you not the palm tree in my plain, and a tower of refuge for my people?'

      'And will you dry up the well from which the tree draws life, and take away the corner-stone of the tower's foundation?'

      'You speak in fables,' said Zehowah, laughing.

      'Yet you imagined the fable yourself, when you likened me to a palm and to a tower. But I am no lover of allegories. The sword is my argument, and my wit is in my arm. The wall by the tree is the wall of love, and the chief foundation of the tower is the love of Zehowah. If you destroy that, the tree will wither and the tower will fall.'

      'Surely there was never such a man as you,' Zehowah answered, half jesting but half in earnest. 'You are as one who has bought a white mare; and though she is fleet, and good to look at, and obedient to his voice and knee, yet he is discontented because she cannot speak to him, and he would fain have her black instead of white, and if possible would teach her to sing like a Persian nightingale.'

      'Is it then not natural in a woman to love man? Have you heard no tales of love from the story-tellers of the harem?'

      'I have heard many such tales, but none of them were told of me,' Zehowah replied. 'Will you drink again? Is the drink too sweet, or is it not cool?'

      She had risen from her seat and held the golden cup, bending down to him, so that her face was near his. He laid his hand upon her shoulder.

      'Hear me, Zehowah,' he said. 'I want but one thing in the world, and it was for that I came out of the Red Desert to be your husband. And that thing I will have, though the price be greater than rubies, or than blood, or than life itself.'

      'If it is mine, I freely give it to you. If it is not mine, take it by force, or I will help you to take it by a stratagem, if I can. Am I not your wife?'

      She spoke thus, supposing from his face that he meant some treasure that could be taken by strength or by wile, for she could not believe a man could speak so seriously of a mere thought such as love.

      'Neither my right hand nor your wit can give me this, but only your heart, Zehowah,' he answered, still holding her and looking at her.

      But now she did not laugh, for she saw that he was greatly in earnest.

      'You are still talking of love,' she said. 'And you are not jesting. I do not know what to answer you. Gladly will I say, СКАЧАТЬ