'This is a new song,' said Khaled, when she had finished.
'Is it? I made it many months ago,' Zehowah answered. 'Does it please you?'
'It is not very melodious, nor do I think there is much truth in the matter of it. But I thank you, for it has served to pass the time.'
Zehowah laughed a little scornfully.
'I daresay you would prefer the song of a Persian nightingale,' she said. 'Nevertheless my song is full of truth, though you cannot see it. There are many who seek for things of great value, and do not know when they have found them because a crab has bitten their hands.'
'Verily,' thought Khaled, 'this is indeed the spirit of contradiction.'
But he was silent for a time, not wishing that she should think him easily moved. In the meantime Zehowah played softly upon the little instrument and Khaled watched her, wondering whether she were not playing upon the strings of his heart, for her own pleasure, as skilfully as her fingers ran upon the chords of the barbat. Many words rose to his lips then, and he wished that he also had the science of music that he might sing sweetly to her. Then he laughed aloud at his own imagination, which was indeed that of a foolish youth.
