But, you foolish old father, how _can_ I?
He is too far away." Then she flung her arms about Israel's neck and kissed him.
"There," she cried, in a tone of one who settles differences, "I have seen my _father_ anyway." It was hard to check her merriment, but Israel had to do it.

He told her, with many throbs in his throat, that she was not like other maidens--not like her father, or Ali, or Fatimah, or Habeebah; that she was a being afflicted of God; that there was something she had not got, something she could not do, a world she did not know, and had never yet so much as dreamt of.

Darkness was more than cold and quiet, and light was more than warmth and noise.

The one was day--day ruled by the fiery sun in the sky--and the other was night, lit by the pale moon and the bright stars in heaven.

And the face of man and the eyes of woman were more than features to feel--they were spirit and soul, to watch and to follow and to love without any hand being near them.
"There is a great world about you, little one," he said, "which you have never seen, though you can hear it and feel it and speak to it.