For a moment a wondrous brilliancy shone in her eyes, then she suddenly drew back from Youssouf, who stood there, motionless, in a state of ecstasy. He stood gazing at her, entranced, seeming to hear and see nothing. Not far from him, her face turned away, Sitta Nefysseh stood still. He distinctly heard her hurried breathing, and something like a low sob escape her breast. He listened to it as to mysterious and wondrously sweet music. Suddenly, she turned around, and advanced toward him with head erect and proud bearing. "Kachef Youssouf, you have excited my indignation by your unmerited reproaches! No one can say that Mourad Bey's widow has a cold, hard heart. Mourad Bey knew otherwise; he knew that I loved him; and if I have seemed, since his death, to have a cold, hard heart, it is only because I have remained true to his memory. Consider this, and do not dare to reproach me. Now go, and hasten with my message to Bardissi!" "I am going, mistress," said he, sadly. "But, when I have executed your command, then I may return to my mistress with what speed my horse can bear me, may I not?" She remained silent, and let her eyelids, with their long, black lashes, sink down over her beautiful eyes. It seemed to him that a sigh escaped her breast. "No," said she, in a low voice. "No?" shrieked, rather than cried, Youssouf. "I may not return!" "You may not return, Kachef Youssouf. I have long recognized that it ill became a young man to pass his days here in ease and quiet, while his friends, his brothers, are confronting the enemy on the battlefield. You said it would disgrace Youssouf if he left his mistress in danger; but it seems to me that the disgrace is much greater when a youth, born perhaps to become a hero, spends his days in inglorious ease, reclining on soft cushions. Consider that Mourad Bey never laid aside his sword. Remember that, when the trumpet sounded, he was ever the first to the field. He would have considered him his enemy who should have said to him: 'Remain at home, and repose on your cushions while your brethren are facing death for the fatherland!' I think you should endeavor to follow his example. You must follow his example! Kachef Youssouf, I will tell you what is written in the letter you are to take to Osman Bey. I announce to him that I send the truest and bravest of all kachefs, and I beg him to take you to battle with him. I announce to him that I give him for the fatherland, and the most faithful friend I have, and beg him to place you at the starting-point, from which you are to run your race as a hero." "Oh, bitterness and anguish!" cried Youssouf, in tones of despair. "She drives me from her like a miserable dog whom she will not tolerate on the threshold of her door."