"As he entreats, so do I entreat also!" cried Osman Bey, in angry tones, thrusting L'Elfi aside, and falling on his knee before her. "Be mine, Nefysseh! True, I have loved others, and have also looked with pleasure at the dancing of the female slaves in the harem, yet I have hitherto adored no woman. Military glory, my adoration heretofore, grows pale when Sitta Nefysseh appears, and all else that I have loved and hoped for is as nothing in her presence. For your sake, I will sacrifice not only life, but renown. Command, and I will be your slave; at your feet will I lay my sword and dagger. With my head bowed down, and my beard shorn, will I follow you into the desert, blessing each day and hour in which I am permitted to look upon my queen. Now, O Sitta Nefysseh, you know what Osman Bey Bardissi feels, and that he can boast of a greater love than L'Elfi; he even offers to sacrifice renown for you! Decide whom you will bless, Nefysseh! One thing more I will say to you: if you select the hand of my rival, and command me to love him, I cannot promise to do so! Yet this I swear, that I will be contented with your choice, and that I will never seek to take or shorten his life. Consider, Nefysseh, that this is the most enormous sacrifice that Osman can make for the woman he loves; he promises not to kill him upon whom she bestows her hand." "And you, L'Elfi," said Nefysseh, in a soft voice, "will you swear the same?" "I will," cried L'Elfi. "I swear that I will do as Osman Bey has said--I will still detest my enemy, but I will not kill him whom you love. Now speak, Sitta Nefysseh, and decide between us!" For a moment all were silent. The two beys awaited her decision with wildly-throbbing hearts. She was still silent, her large eyes turned toward heaven with a wondrous expression. At this moment the song of the slaves, accompanied by the music of the clarinet and violin, again resounded from the midst of the oleander and rose-bushes. The voice of a slave arose, singing of a slave who loves his mistress, and dies because of her indifference. He has borne this bitter sorrow for long days and nights, and dares not tell the tale of his love. He bore it, and was blessed in being permitted to see her, but her heart was cold and knew no love for him. But greater unhappiness was in store for him. One day there came a proud and mighty bey, and succeeded in winning the love of his adored; and Fate willed it that the poor, tortured slave should see her eyes fixed on the bey in a loving gaze, and he also saw him fall on his knees before his mistress and take her hand and carry it to his lips. Then the poor slave's heart broke, and, falling to the earth, he died, sighing, "I love thee!" All three had listened to the sad air and words of the song. Sitta Nefysseh now turned to the beys.