I was about saying something concerning the Kosekin alphabet or something else of an equally appropriate nature, when she prevented me.
"Atam-or," said she, in a low voice.
"Layelah," said I, with my mind full of confusion.
"I love you!" She sat looking at me with her beautiful face all aglow her dark eyes fixed on mine with an intense and eager gaze.

I looked at her and said not one single word.

Layelah was the first to break the awkward silence.
"You love Almah, Atam-or; but say, do you not love me?
You smile at me, you meet me always when I come with warm greetings, and you seem to enjoy yourself in my society.

Say, Atam-or, do you not love me ?" This was a perilous and a tremendous moment.

The fact is, I did like Layelah very much indeed, and I wanted to tell her so; but my ignorance of the language did not allow me to observe those nice distinctions of meaning which exist between the words "like" and "love." I knew no other word than the one Kosekin word meaning "love," and could not think of any meaning "like." It was, therefore, a very trying position for me.
"Dear Layelah," said I, floundering and stammering in my confusion, "I love you; I--" But here I was interrupted without waiting for any further words; the beautiful creature flung her arms around me and clung to me with a fond embrace.