to be buried in profound meditation. His mind was divided between two conflicting considerations: on the one hand he could not renounce his cherished dream without a pang; on the other, he told himself that he would be a madman to bestow his affections upon a woman who had trifled with him and left him with mocking words, when right there in his house there was a being who was, at least, the equal in youth and beauty of her whom he had lost.
Leila, as if awaiting her doom, remained kneeling before him, and two great tears coursed silently down the poor child's pale cheeks.
"Ah! why did not Mesrour's blade complete the work that he had begun!" she exclaimed, raising her hand to her white, slender neck.
Moved by her despairing accent, Mahmoud-Ben-Ahmed raised the young slave and imprinted a kiss upon her forehead.
Leila drew herself up as a dove does when it is caressed, and taking a position in front of Mahmoud-Ben-Ahmed took both his hands in hers and said to him: "Look at me closely; don't you think that I am very like some one whom you know?"
Mahmoud-Ben-Ahmed could not help uttering a cry of surprise:
"The face is the same, the eyes are the same; in a word, all the features are those of the princess Ayesha. How is it that I have never noticed the resemblance until now?"
"The looks with which you have favored your poor slave up to the present time have been very unobservant," Leila replied in a tone of gentle raillery.
