e her,
See her once more. My eye sees naught but death:
The flowers wilt before my eyes like candles,
When they begin to run: all, all is dying,
And all dies to no purpose, for she is
Not here--

[The old camel-driver comes running from
the left across the stage to the gardener
and shows him something that seems to be
happening rather high in the air to the left;
the gardener calls his wife's attention to it,
and all look.]

MERCHANT (becomes aware of this, follows the direction of their
glances, grows deathly pale).
God, God! Give answer! There, there, there!
The woman on the tower, bending forward,
Why does she so bend forward? Look, look there!
[WIFE shrieks and covers her face.]

GARDENER (runs to the left, looks, calls back).
She lives and moves! Come, master, come this way.

[The merchant runs out, the gardener's wife
following. Immediately thereafter the
merchant, the gardener, and his wife come
carrying SOBEIDE, and lay her down in the
grass. The gardener takes off his outer
garment and lays it under her head.
The old camel-driver stands at some distance.]

MERCHANT (kneeling).
Thou breathest, thou wilt live for me, thou must!
Thou art too fair to die!

SOBEIDE (opens her eyes).
Forbear, I'm dying; hush, I know it well.
Dear husband, hush, I beg thee. Thee I had
Not thought to see again--
I need to crave thy pardon.

MERCHANT. (tenderly).
Thou!

SOBEIDE.
Not this.
This had to be.--No, what took place last night:
I did to thee what should become no woman,
And all my destiny I grasped and treated
As I in dancing used to treat my veils.
With fingers vain I tampered with my Self.
Speak not, but understand.

MERCHANT.
What happened--then?

SOBEIDE.
Ask not what happened; ask me not, I beg thee.
I had before been weary: 'twas the same
Up to the end. But now 'tis easy. Thou
Art good, I'l