“Art thou not happy, O my pearl? I could see from over there that something ailed thee. Is it the thought of death, the air of tombs? The spectacle of graves should rather cheer the living. Give praise to God that thou art still alive; enjoy existence! Allah is merciful! It is certain that He has made provision for our sex hereafter⁠—a finer paradise than that of men, inshallah! Ha, ha! What faces, thinkest thou, the men would wear if they knew that we had heavenly youths for our enjoyment, in our place apart? By Allah, it would spoil their pleasure in the black-eyed maids! I see them sulking even in the home of bliss.⁠ ⁠… The air is chill thus early; the end of night is always a sad hour. A delicate soft flower like thee is dashed by it. Come, let me talk to warm thee. I am called the Mother of Laughter, thou hast heard!⁠ ⁠…