'Do you think that I believe this of you?' asked Zehowah, after some time.
'You believed it yesterday, you believe it to-day, and you will believe it to-morrow when you are free to make choice of some other man—whom you will doubtless love.'
'Yet I know that it is not true,' she said suddenly.
'It is too late,' Khaled answered. 'The more I love you, the more I see how little faith you have in me—and the less faith can I put in you. Will you sing to me again?'
'This is very cruel and bitter.' Zehowah sighed and looked at him.
'Will you sing to me again, Zehowah?' he repeated. 'I like your sad music'
Then she took up the barbat from the carpet, but though she struck a chord she could not go on and her hand lay idle upon the strings, and her voice was still.
'You are perhaps tired,' said Khaled after some time. 'Then lay aside the instrument and sleep.' He composed himself in his seat, his sword being ready and his eyes towards the door.
But Zehowah shook her head as though awaking from a dream, her fingers ran swiftly over the strings and gentle tones came from her lips. Khaled listened thoughtfully to the song and the words soothed him,
