'O Zehowah,' he said, 'you are my law and my rule. You are my speech and my occupation. You are my Kebla to which I turn in prayer. For the love of you I have got the victory over many foes. And yet I see that your cheek is cold and the light of your eyes is undisturbed. Have you no other enemies for me to destroy, or have you no secret foe whose head would be a pleasant gift?' Zehowah laughed, as she fanned him with a palm leaf. 'Do you still thirst for war, Khaled?' she asked. 'Truly you have swallowed up all our enemies as the dry sand swallows up water. Where shall I find enemies enough for you to slay? You went out in pride and you have returned in glory. Are you not yet satisfied? And as for any secret foe, if I have any I do not know him. Rest, therefore; eat and drink and spend your days in peace.' 'I care little for either food or drink,' Khaled answered, 'and I need little rest.' 'Will nothing but war please you? Must you overcome Egypt and make Syria pay tribute as far as Damascus before you will rest?' 'I will conquer the whole world for you, if you wish it,' said Khaled. 'What should I do with the world?' asked Zehowah. 'Have I not treasures and garments enough and to spare, besides the spoil you have now brought home? And besides, if you would conquer the world you must needs make war upon true believers, amongst whom we do not count the people of Shammar. Be satisfied therefore and rest in peace.' 'How shall I be satisfied until I have kindled the light in Zehowah's eyes at my coming, and until I feel that her hand is cold and trembles when I take it in mine?' 'Do I say to my eyes, "be dull"--or to my hand, "do not tremble"?' Zehowah asked. 'Is this, which you ask of me, something I can command at will, as I can a smile or a word? If it is, teach me and I will learn. But if not, why do you expect of me what I cannot do? Can a camel gallop like a horse, or a horse trot like a camel, or bear great burdens through the desert? Have you come back from a great war only to talk of this something which you call love, which is yours and not mine, which you feel and I cannot feel, which you cannot explain nor describe, and which, after all, is but a whim of the fancy, as one man loves sour drink and another sweet?' 'Do you think that love is nothing but a whim of the fancy?' asked Khaled bitterly. 'What else can it be? Would you love me if you were blind?' 'Yes.' 'And if you were deaf?' 'Yes.' 'And if you could not touch my face with your hands, nor kiss me with your lips?' 'Yes.' Zehowah laughed. 'Then love is indeed a fancy. For if you could not see me, nor touch me, nor hear me, what would remain to you but an empty thought?' 'Have I seen you, or touched you, or heard your voice for these two months and a half?' asked Khaled. 'Yet I have loved you as much during all that time.'