"
"Then, if thou art happy, I also am happy," he said. "And when an Arab
is happy, his lips would sing the song that is in his heart. Wilt thou
be angry or pleased if I sing thee a love-song of the desert?"
"I cannot be angry, because the song will not really be for me,"
Victoria answered with the simplicity which had often disarmed and
disconcerted Maieddine. "And I shall be pleased, because in the desert
it is good to hear desert songs."
This was not exactly the answer which he had wanted, but he made the
best of it, telling himself that he had not much longer to wait.
"Leaders of camels sing," he said, "to make the beasts' burdens weigh
less heavily. But thy mehari has no burden. Thou in thy bassour art
lighter on his back than a feather on the wing of a dove. My song is for
my own heart, and for thine heart, if thou wilt have it, not for Guelbi,
though the meaning of Guelbi is 'heart of mine.'"
Then Maieddine sang as he rode, his bridle lying loose, an old Arab
song, wild and very sad, as all Arab music sounds, even when it is the
cry of joy:
"Truly, though I were to die, it would be naught,
If I were near my love, for whom my bosom aches,
For whom my heart is beating.
"Yes, I am to die, but death is nothing
O ye who pass and see me dying,
For I have kissed the eyes, the mouth that I desired."
"But that is a sad song," said Victoria, when Maieddine ceased his
tragic chant, after many verses.
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