What man that had a heart in his breast could listen unmoved to words like these, or look without emotion upon one so beautiful, so gentle, and so tender?
It was no longer Layelah in triumph with whom I had to do, but Layelah in distress: the light banter, the teasing, mocking smile, the kindling eye, the ready laugh--all were gone.

There was nothing now but mournful tenderness--the timid appeal of one who dreaded a repulse, the glance of deep affection, the abandonment of love.
I held Layelah in my arms, and I thought of nothing now but words of consolation for her.

Life seemed over; death seemed inevitable; and there, on the back of the athaleb, we floated on the waters and waited for our doom..