words the precise reason why he or she loves, then love itself could be defined in language; but as no man or woman has ever succeeded in doing this, I infer that they who love best do not themselves know in what love consists—still less therefore can any one else know, wherefore the definition is impossible, and no one need waste time in trying to find it.
A certain wit has also said that although it be impossible for any man to explain the nature of love to many persons at the same time, he generally finds it easy to make his explanations to one person only. But this is a mere quibbling jest and not deserving of any attention.
Zehowah expected an answer to her question, and Khaled was silent, not because he was as yet too little acquainted with the feelings of a man to give them expression, but because he already felt so much that it was hard for him to speak at all.
Zehowah laughed and shook her head, for she was not of a timid temper.
'How can you expect me to say that I love you, when you yourself are unable to answer such a simple question?' she asked. 'And besides, are you not my lord and my master? What is it then to you, whether I love you or not?'
But again Khaled was silent, debating whether he should tell her the truth, how the angel had promised in
