Enraptured, unable to control myself, I thrust my arm forward by a movement almost independent of my will, and my hand, too audacious, was on the point of lifting the hateful veil, but she prevented me by raising herself quickly on tiptoe, upbraiding me at the same time for my perfidious boldness, with a voice as commanding as her attitude.
“Dost thou deserve,” she said, “Yusuf’s friendship, when thou abusest the sacred laws of hospitality by insulting his wife?”
“Madam, you must kindly forgive me, for I never had any intention to insult you. In my country the lowest of men may fix his eyes upon the face of a queen.”
“Yes, but he cannot tear off her veil, if she chooses to wear it. Yusuf shall avenge me.”
The threat, and the tone in which it was pronounced, frightened me. I threw myself at her feet, and succeeded in calming her anger.
“Take a seat,” she said.
And she sat down herself, crossing her legs with so much freedom that I caught a glimpse of charms which would have caused me to lose all control over myself if the delightful sight had remained one moment longer exposed to my eyes. I then saw that I had gone the wrong way to work, and I felt vexed with myself; but it was too late.
“Art thou excited?” she said.
“How could I be otherwise,” I answered, “when thou art scorching me with an ardent fire?”
I had become more prudent, and I seized her hand without thinking any more of her face.
“Here is my husband,” she said, and Yusuf came into the room. We rose, Yusuf embraced me, I complimented him, the slave left the room. Yusuf thanked his wife for having entertained me, and offered her his arm to take her to her own apartment. She took it, but when she reached the door, she raised her veil, and kissing her husband she allowed me to see her lovely face as if it had been done unwittingly. I followed her with my eyes as long as I could, and Yusuf, coming back to me, said with a laugh that his wife had offered to dine with us.