"No, Mohammed, my father must not die. Go to him, step to his bedside and say to him: 'Pray and wait. When the gloomy stranger who has purchased your Masa and made her his property shall have embarked in his ship and sailed, your daughter will return to you in love and happiness. Wait, father. Do not join my dear mother; wait for your Masa.' Speak to him thus, and I know he will live to see his Masa, again. No, I am not afraid. The ghins will not enter if Masa kneels at the entrance and prays to the prophet who told men that they were to love one another, and that love alone could secure happiness. No, I am not afraid. 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. "I know what that means," said Mohammed, anxiously. "It is Osman warning me to be on my guard. 'I will give you a signal when danger threatens,' whispered he, in my ear, when we parted, 'that you may know that your friend is watching over you in the night also.' Yes, I must go. But listen, Masa: when I am gone, replace the stone I showed you yesterday, before the opening; and then go back into the cave to the point where the passage turns, where no one can see the entrance to the second cave. Remain there, and await the return of him you love." "I will do so, Mohammed. When you have gone, I will push the stone before the entrance, and go back into the second cave, where I will fall on my knees and pray to Allah and his prophet until my beloved returns." At this moment a third report resounded through the cave. "Danger threatens--Masa, I must away. We will soon be free; farewell until then, farewell! Ah! how pale you have suddenly become! Let me look at you once more, my Masa!" He raises her in his arms and carries her to the opening, and the moon is gracious and illumines her countenance, but it also makes it deathly pale. "O Masa, my white dove, how pale you are! Yet your eyes are bright-- let me kiss them. And with this kiss I swear I will love you eternally! And now kiss me, too, and let this kiss be the vow of your eternal love for me!" She kissed him passionately. "I love you, Mohammed, and you alone will I love on earth!" He looks at her tenderly, and shudders, for her countenance is still deathly pale. "I can no longer look upon your dear face, I cannot!" he cries, in tones of anguish. "I have a dread foreboding that I see you for the last time. 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!"