How was it possible for Ali to conceal his sentiments any longer?

"Gulhyndi," he cried, "the youth which the good fairy promised you, you
have already found, if you will be satisfied with my love and fidelity."

"Ali," said she, trembling, "let not compassion for an unhappy being
make you think you love her."

"I have not known before this day what love is," said he; "but if it be
a feeling that supplants every other, and makes the beloved object its
sole desire on earth, then I love you."

She could find no words in answer; her arms embraced the happy Ali, and
in the first kiss he enjoyed the highest happiness.

"But," continued she, when she had in a measure recovered from the
first transport, "you still must flee, Ali, you must leave your country
if you love me. Oh, Allah, how could I expect this from thee," she
exclaimed, with a sigh; "no, no, I shall act against the warning of my
good fairy. She promised me a lover with whom I should not be
compelled to flee, who should dwell with me in my tents. Alas, Ali,
this is impossible with you, and without you the world has no joys for
me."

"Be of good cheer, beloved Gulhyndi, my father is a wealthy and
respected man; I do not know yours, but he cannot have any objection to
our union if the wealthy Ibrahim solicits you for his son, and grants
him the dowry."

He had scarcely uttered these words, when the terrified Maria came
running to them, and crying: "For Heaven's sake, children, compose
yourselves as you value your life. Your father is coming," she said to
Gulhyndi; "play, play," she said, to Ali.

He took the guitar and had scarcely played a few notes, when Hussain
Cadi entered the arbour. Ali's terror may easily be conceived. His
hand almost dropped the guitar so greatly was he embarrassed.

Hussain looked at him attentively. "Is this the Greek slave,
daughter," he asked, "whom your nurse procured to instruct you in
music?"

"Yes, father," replied Gulhyndi, trembling.

"You are agitated, you have been weeping, what is the meaning of all
this?"

"Father, he has sung to me an air which has affected me deeply."

"Ah! does he so well understand the art of moving your feelings?" asked
Hussain. "Play, you Christian dog," said he, turning to Ali, "move me,
also, for once."

"Pardon your slave, sir," said Ali, "feelings cannot be forced; if this
sweet art is to produce its effect, the mind must be favourably attuned
before hand."

"Then I supp