"No, it will only be a poor child of the desert, who sits beside you," said Butheita, smiling. "Only look at poor, miserable me. There is nothing beautiful or radiant about me, proud stranger! Let me go, you would die of hunger and thirst if I remained here, and it would be shameful, too, if I should neglect the duty of hospitality toward my guest. But I will tell you what I can and will do! You shall not lie there bound. I will not have it so, Mohammed Ali. Give me your sacred word that you will not leave, but will remain here until my father comes for you. Give me your word, and I will untie the cords that bind your hands and feet. Give me your word." He looks at her in astonishment. "Do you still have such faith in man's promises that you believe I would keep my word if I gave it?" "Yes," said she, smiling; "I do; this would be a horrible world if one could not. My father has often said to me: 'When a man has given his word he keeps it, though the consequence should be death. Thus a truly brave man acts; only cowards break their word.'" "Then you consider me a truly brave man, Butheita, and not a coward?" "It is only necessary to look at you, stranger," said she, with a winning smile, "to feel in the depths of one's heart that you are a man, and no coward. Give me your word, and you are unfettered. Give me your word that you will not leave." "Well," said he, gazing at her joyously, "I give you my word, as a man! I swear by Allah, and the prophet, and by my own honor, I will not leave here until your father comes and says that I may, and states the conditions. I will, if you will permit me, remain with you in the mean while, and do nothing but look at you. I will be your slave; drink the sweet dew from your lips, and read your commands in your eyes. Tell me, pearl of women, will you accept me as your slave?" Without answering his question, she knelt down blushingly, and untied the cords that bound his hands and feet. "Now, stand up, a free man!" He arose, and with a feeling of intense relief, stretched out the hands that ached from their long confinement, and extended his arms. He would gladly have clasped the girl in their embrace, but, with the grace and ease of a gazelle, she sprang back out of his reach to the door of the tent, and looked at him threateningly. "Mohammed Ali, if you abuse your freedom, you are not the man I took you to be." He bowed his head in silence. "You are right, Butheita, forgive me! I submit to the will of the desert queen; I am your slave, and await your commands; command me, and I will humbly obey." He looked at her inquiringly. Butheita's large black eyes gazed at him with a soft expression, and again a tremor agitated her gentle being.