GARDENER (runs to the left, looks, calls back). She lives and moves! Come, master, come this way. [The merchant runs out, the gardener's wife following. Immediately thereafter the merchant, the gardener, and his wife come carrying SOBEIDE, and lay her down in the grass. The gardener takes off his outer garment and lays it under her head. The old camel-driver stands at some distance.] MERCHANT (kneeling). Thou breathest, thou wilt live for me, thou must! Thou art too fair to die! SOBEIDE (opens her eyes). Forbear, I'm dying; hush, I know it well. Dear husband, hush, I beg thee. Thee I had Not thought to see again-- I need to crave thy pardon. MERCHANT. (tenderly). Thou! SOBEIDE. Not this. This had to be.--No, what took place last night: I did to thee what should become no woman, And all my destiny I grasped and treated As I in dancing used to treat my veils. With fingers vain I tampered with my Self. Speak not, but understand. MERCHANT. What happened--then? SOBEIDE. Ask not what happened; ask me not, I beg thee. I had before been weary: 'twas the same Up to the end. But now 'tis easy. Thou Art good, I'll tell thee something else: my parents-- Thou knowest how they are--I bid thee take them To live with thee. MERCHANT. Yes, yes, but thou wilt live. SOBEIDE. No, say not so; but mark, I fain would tell thee A many things. Oh yes, that graybeard man. He's very poor, take him into thy house At my request. MERCHANT. Now thou shalt bide with me. I will thy every wish divine: breathe softly As e'er thou wilt, yet I will be the lyre To answer every breath with harmony, Until thou weary and bid it be still.