It was low and sweet, oh! so sweet that at its first notes for a moment my senses seemed to swoon and my pulse to stop.
It was to me that she addressed herself.
"My servant here," and ever so slightly she turned her head towards the kneeling Billali, "tells me that you who are named Watcher-in-the-Night, understand the tongue in which I speak to you.

Is it so ?" "I understand Arabic of a kind well enough, having learned it on the East Coast and from Arabs in past years, but not such Arabic as you use, O----" and I paused.
"Call me _Hiya_," she broke in, "which is my title here, meaning, as you know, She, or Woman.

Or if that does not please you, call me Ayesha.
It would rejoice me after so long to hear the name I bore spoken by the lips of one of my colour and of gentle blood." I blushed at the compliment so artfully conveyed, and repeated stupidly enough, "-- Not such Arabic as you use, O--Ayesha." "I thought that you would like the sound of the word better than that of _Hiya_, though afterwards I will teach you to pronounce it as you should, O--have you any other name save Watcher-by-Night, which seems also to be a title ?" "Yes," I answered.

"Allan." "-- O--Allan.

Tell me of these," she went on quickly, indicating my companions with a sweep of her slender hand, "for they do not speak Arabic, I think.