but before she had reached the end, she stopped suddenly.
'Why do you not finish it?' he asked.
'If you have told me truth,' she answered, 'this is no time for singing and music. But if not, why should I labour to amuse you, as though I were a slave? I will call one of the women who has a sweet voice and a good memory. She will sing you a kasid which will last till morning.'
'You are wrong,' said Khaled. 'There is no reason in what you say.'
But he reflected upon her nature, while he spoke.
'Surely,' he thought, 'there is nothing in the world so contradictory as a woman. I ask of her a song and she is silent. I bid her rest, supposing her to be weary, and she sings to me. If I tell her that I hate her she will perhaps answer that she loves me. Min Allah! Let us see.'
'You inspire hatred in me,' he said aloud, after a few moments.
At this Zehowah was very much astonished, and she again let the barbat fall from her knees.
'You wished me to believe that you loved me, and this not long since,' she answered.
'It may be so. I did not know you then.'
He looked towards the door as though he would say nothing further. Zehowah sighed, not understand-
