'This is a new song,' said Khaled, when she had finished.
'Is it? I made it many months ago,' Zehowah answered. 'Does it please you?'
'It is not very melodious, nor do I think there is much truth in the matter of it. But I thank you, for it has served to pass the time.'
'I daresay you would prefer the song of a Persian nightingale,' she said. 'Nevertheless my song is full of truth, though you cannot see it. There are many who seek for things of great value and do not know when they have found them because a crab has bitten their hands.'
'Verily,' thought Khaled, 'this is indeed the spirit of contradiction.'
But he was silent for a time, not wishing that she should think him easily moved. In the meantime Zehowah played softly upon the little instrument and Khaled watched her, wondering whether she were not playing upon the strings of his heart, for her own pleasure, as skilfully as her fingers ran upon the chords of the barbat. Many words rose to his lips then, and he wished that he also had the science of music that he might sing sweetly to her. Then he laughed aloud at his own imagination, which was indeed that of a foolish youth.
'The lion roaring for a sweetmeat,' he thought, 'and the sword-hand aching to scratch little tunes upon a lute!'
Zehowah turned suddenly when he laughed, and ceased from playing.
'I am glad that you are merry,' she said. 'I like laughter better than reproaches and prefer it to gloomy forebodings of evil when none is at hand.'
Khaled's face grew dark, and he looked again towards the door.
'If you will stay with me, you shall see that evil is not far off,' he answered, for she had reminded him of what he was expecting, and he knew that it was no jesting matter. 'But you shall please yourself in this as in all other matters, though it were better for you to go now and shut yourself up in an inner room and wait for the end. The night is advancing, and all will soon be over.'
'Hear me, Khaled,' said Zehowah, speaking earnestly. 'If you bid me go, I will go, or if you desire me to stay, I will remain with you. But if you are indeed in danger, as you say, let us call up the guards and the watchmen who sleep in the palace, that they may stand by you with their swords and help you to fight if there is to be strife.'