"Had wished for years"--thou seest, all these matters
Are different, and the words we use
Are different. At one time this has ripened,
But to decay again. For there are moments
With cheeks that burn like the eternal suns--
When somewhere hovers mute an unconfessed
Confession, somewhere vanishes in air
The echo of a call that never reached
Its utterance; here in me something whispers,
"I yielded to him;" mark: in thought! "I yielded"--
The following moment swallows everything,
As night the lightning flash ... How all began
And ended? Well, in this wise: first I sealed
My lips, soon then set seal upon my eye-lids,
And he--

MERCHANT.
Well, how was he?

SOBEIDE.
Why, very noble.
As one who seeks to sully his own image
In other eyes, to spare that other pain--
Quite different, no longer kind as once
--It was the greatest kindness, so to act--
His spirit rent and full of mockery, that
Perhaps was bitterer to himself than me,
Just like an actor oftentimes, so strangely
With set intent. At other times again
Discoursing of the future, of the time
When I should give my hand--

MERCHANT (vehemently).
To me?

SOBEIDE (coldly).
When I should give my hand to any other;--
Describing what he knew that I should never
Endure, if life should ever take that form.
As little as himself would e'er have borne it
A single hour, for he but made a show,
Acquaint with me, and knowing it would cost
The less of pain to wrench my heart from him,
So soon as I had come to doubt his faith.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

'Twas too well acted, but what wealth of goodness
Was there.

MERCHANT. The greatest goodness, _if_ 'twas really
Naught but a pose assumed.

SOBEIDE (passionately).
I beg thee, husband,
This one thing: ruin not our life together.
As yet 'tis young and blind as tiny fledglings,
A single speech like this might swiftly slay it!
I shall not be an evil wife to thee: