ess courage than I did when I gave my willing hand. I knew not then
what would be the extent of my loss; but fear not, much as I feel
here," continued Amine, putting her hand to her heart--"I am prepared,
and proud that he who is selected for such a task is my husband."
Amine paused. "You cannot surely have been mistaken, Philip?"

"No! Amine, I have not been mistaken, either in the summons or in
my own courage, or in my selection of a wife," replied Philip,
mournfully, as he embraced her. "It is the will of Heaven."

"Then may its will be done," replied Amine, rising from her seat. "The
first pang is over. I feel better now, Philip. Your Amine knows her
duty."

Philip made no reply; when, after a few moments, Amine continued:

"But one short week, Philip--"

"I would it had been but one day;" replied he; "it would have been
long enough. He has come too soon--the one-eyed monster."

"Nay, not so, Philip. I thank him for the week--'tis but a short time
to wean myself from happiness. I grant you, that were I to tease, to
vex, to unman you with my tears, my prayers, or my upbraidings (as
some wives would do, Philip), one day would be more than sufficient
for such a scene of weakness on my part, and misery on yours. But, no,
Philip, your Amine knows her duty better. You must go like some knight
of old to perilous encounter, perhaps to death; but Amine will arm
you, and show her love by closing carefully each rivet to protect you
in your peril, and will see you depart full of hope and confidence,
anticipating your return. A week is not too long, Philip, when
employed as I trust I shall employ it--a week to interchange our
sentiments, to hear your voice, to listen to your words (each of which
will be engraven on my heart's memory), to ponder on them, and feed my
love with them in your absence and in my solitude. No! no! Philip; I
thank God that there is yet a week."

"And so do I, then, Amine; and, after all, we knew that this must
come."

"Yes! but my love was so potent, that it banished memory."

"And yet during our separation your love must feed on memory, Amine."

Amine sighed. Here their conversation was interrupted by the entrance
of Mynheer Poots, who, struck with the alteration in Amine's radiant
features, exclaimed, "Holy Prophet! what is the matter now?"

"Nothing more than what we all knew before," replied Philip; "I am
about to leave you--the ship will sail in a week."

"Oh! you will sail in a week?"