"This song has no bearing upon you. You will never see Sitta Nefysseh give her love and hand to another! You who were my husband's friends I will ever consider my friends! But hear me: Mourad's widow will never marry again! As I knelt at the death-bed of my husband, bathing his wound with my tears, I swore that I would ever remain true to him I had loved so ardently my life long, and never become the wife of another. And now I ask, noble beys, can you desire Mourad's widow to perjure herself? I know you will say the heart knows no oaths, love cannot be restrained. That may be, but do not speak of it to me. You have come to ask with which of you I will share the remainder of my days; I ask you, decide yourselves, can I break this solemn oath?" The two beys bow their heads still deeper, and sigh profoundly. "Decide!" repeated Sitta Nefysseh. They raise their heads and gaze at her sadly. "No, Sitta Nefysseh! You may not break the oath to your husband, sworn in the name of Allah and the prophet! No, you can never bestow your hand upon another. Alas, that this is so! alas, that we must submit!" "No, it is well that it is so!" said Sitta Nefysseh, with a soft smile. "Mourad's widow has the right to be the friend of both of you; she may hold out her hands to you and say: `Be my friends, my brothers, and, as you love me, also love one another.' For the second time I entreat you, grasp each other's hands and be friends. For both let there be one common enemy--the enemy who confronts you on the field of battle--the Turk! Grasp hands in love and friendship!" The two beys grasped each other's hands firmly. "Let it be as our friend and sister wishes; she shall see us united. Let there be for us but one common enemy--the Turk!" "An enemy who grows stronger each day!" said Sitta Nefysseh. "We thought to have peace when the Franks should have left, but unfortunately it is not so. The Turks are resolved to subjugate us. I know they will not rest until they have overthrown and destroyed the haughty Mameluke beys! They are continually bringing new troops, into the country, and their leader is a dangerous enemy, believe me!" "For the second time you speak of this `dangerous enemy.' Tell us, Sitta, who is he?" "He it is," said she, in earnest tones, "who brought the letter to the capitan pacha at Aboukir; he it is who confronted you in that bloody struggle, and whose courage, boldness, and determination, captured the stronghold Rosetta. I have read the countenance of the sarechsme, and in his eye I have recognized the lion and the fox combined. Before him, I for the first time in my life experienced fear. Beware of him; if possible, make a friend of him, for the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, would prove a mighty ally!"