ay overhear us ...

SOBEIDE.
I feel that there is something in me now
Displeases thee. Why dost thou keep it from me?

GANEM.
What wouldst thou?

SOBEIDE.
Nothing, if I may but please thee.
Ah, be indulgent. Tell me my shortcomings.
I will be so obedient. Was I bold?
Look thou, 'tis not my nature so; I feel
As if this night had gripped me with its fists
And flung me hither, aye, my spirit shudders
At all that I had power there to say,
And that I then had strength to walk this road.
Art sorry that I had it?

GANEM.
Why this weeping?

SOBEIDE.
Thou hast the power to change me so. I cannot
But laugh or weep, or blush or pale again
As thou wouldst have it.

[GANEM kisses her.]

SOBEIDE.
When thou kissest me,
O look not thus! But no, I am thy slave.
Do as thou wilt. Here let me rest. I will
Be clay unto thy hands, and think no more.
And now thy brow is wrinkled?

GANEM.
Aye, for soon
Thou must return. Thou smilest?

SOBEIDE.
Should I not?
I know thou wouldst but try me.

GANEM.
No, in earnest,
Thou art in error. Thinkest thou perhaps
That I can keep thee here? Say, has thy husband
Gone over land, that thou art not afraid?

SOBEIDE.
I beg thee cease, I cannot laugh just now.

GANEM.
No, seriously, when shall I come to thee?

SOBEIDE.
To me, what for? Thou seest, I am here:
Look, here before thy feet I sit me down;
I have no other home except the straw
Beside thy hound, if thou wilt not provide
A bed for me; and none will come to fetch me.

[He raises her, then claps his hands delightedly.]

GANEM.
O splendid! How thou playst a seeming part
When opportunity demands. And it becomes thee,
Oh, most superbly! We'll draw profit from it.
There'll be no lack of further free occasion,
To yield ourselves to pleasure undismayed--
When shall