fear God.—What wouldst thou see there? Art like the idiot Franje (Europeans) who come here and carry away from around the grave some stones and dust? Go thou with him—(this to the servant) and show him the vault of the Toubeiyahs, where she was buried.’ This, in a supercilious air, while she drew from the narghile the smoke, which I could not relish.
“We come to the cemetery near the church in the centre of the town. The vault where Henriette was laid, a plain, plastered square cell, is not far from an oak which in the morning envelopes it with its shadow; and directly across are palms, whose shades at sundown, make a vain effort to kiss its dust. No grass, no flowers around; but much of the dust of neglect. And of this I take up a handful, like ‘the idiot Franje ’; but instead of carrying it away, I press therein my lips and leave my planted kisses near the vault.—When the mothers and the sisters of these sacred hills, O Henriette, can see the flowers of these kisses in thy dust, when they can appreciate the sacred purity of thy spirit and devotion, what mothers then we shall have, and what sisters!