'
'A what?' said Eva.
'A Hebrew; yes, a Hebrew. I am a Hebrew by blood, and we all are by
faith.'
'Thou son of a slave!' exclaimed the lady, 'thou masquerade of humanity!
Christian or Mussulman, Pagan or Druse, thou mayest figure as; but spare
my race, Fakredeen, they are fallen----'
'But not so base as I am. It may be true, but I love you, Eva, and you
love me; and if I had as many virtues as yourself, you could not love
me more; perhaps less. Women like to feel their superiority; you are
as clever as I am, and have more judgment; you are generous, and I am
selfish; honourable, and I am a villain; brave, and I am a coward; rich,
and I am poor. Let that satisfy you, and do not trample on the fallen;'
and Fakredeen took her hand and bedewed it with his tears.
'Dear Fakredeen,' said Eva, 'I thought you spoke in jest, as I did.'
'How can a man jest, who has to go through what I endure!' said the
young Emir, in a desponding tone, and still lying at her feet. 'O, my
more than sister, 'tis hell! The object I propose to myself would, with
the greatest resources, be difficult; and now I have none.'
'Relinquish it.'
'When I am young and ruined! When I have the two greatest stimulants in
the world to action, Youth and Debt! No; such a combination is never to
be thrown away.
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