" And the tongue of the case wrote in our hearts
these lines:
How many a lover with his eyebrows speaketh
To his beloved, as his passion pleadeth.
With flashing eyne his passion he inspireth
And well she seeth what his pleading needeth.
How sweet the look when each on other gazeth,
And with what swiftness and how sure it speedeth.
And this with eyebrows all his passion writeth,
And that with eyeballs all his passion readeth.
Then my eyes filled with tears to overflowing and I cast the sword
from my hand, saying: "O mighty Ifrit and hero, if a woman lacking
wits and faith deem it unlawful to strike off my head, how can it be
lawful for me, a man, to smite her neck whom I never saw in my whole
life? I cannot do such misdeed, though thou cause me drink the cup
of death and perdition." Then said the Ifrit, "Ye twain show the
good understanding between you, but I will let you see how such doings
end." He took the sword and struck off the lady's hands first, with
four strokes, and then her feet, whilst I looked on and made sure of
death and she farewelled me with her dying eyes.
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