Part 4 (2/2)

ISHMAEL.

Calm? I be calm? Like arrows stinging sharp The last words that he spoke stick in my breast:

”Weep not,” he said, ”for I am glad to die, Since I may not possess her. Bear my greeting Unto my father. May he pardon me That when I fared I took no leave of him.

Tell him it was for fear lest his denial Should force my disobedience. And show him This picture.

(_Draws a picture from the folds of his robe._)

When he sees such loveliness, He will forgive, and weep my fate with thee.”

Thus speaking, my dear Prince a hundred times Kissed the accursed picture, and then bowed His neck to the stroke. Blood spurts on high.

The trunk Quivers, and falls. High in the headsman's hands The head I love. Blind, dazed with pain I flee....

(_Hurls the picture to the ground and tramples on it._)

Thou devilish, accursed witchery!

I tread thee in the dust, thou sp.a.w.n of h.e.l.l!

And O that I could trample with these feet The witch herself! Haha! I was to take thee Unto his father, unto Samarkand?

I fancy That Samarkand will never see me more.

(_Exit in desperation._)

SCENE V

BARAK, CALAF.

BARAK.

Well? Did you hear?

CALAF.

You see me all amazed.

One thing I understand not: how such power Should issue from a picture.

(_Bends down to lift up the picture._)

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