excluded every other; he assumed a look of concern and astonishment at
the imputation of a crime, which was at once so horrid and so
unnecessary. After a solemn deprecation of such enormous guilt, he
observed, that as it was now impossible for HAMET to succeed as his
rival, either in empire or in love, without the breach of a command,
which he knew his virtue would implicitly obey; he had no motive either
to desire his death, or to restrain his liberty: 'His walk' says he, 'is
still uncircumscribed in Persia, and except this chamber, there is no
part of the palace to which he is not admitted.'

To this declaration ALMEIDA listened, as to the music of paradise; and
it suspended for a-while every passion, but her love: the sudden ease of
her mind made her regardless of all about her, and she had in this
interval suffered ALMORAN to remove her veil, without reflecting upon
what he was doing. The moment she recollected herself, she made a gentle
effort to recover it, with some confusion, but without anger. The
pleasure that was expressed in her eyes, the blush that glowed upon her
cheek, and the contest about the veil, which to an amorous imagination
had an air of dalliance, concurred to heighten the passion of ALMORAN
almost to phrensy: she perceived her danger in his looks, and her
spirits instantly took the alarm. He seized her hand, and gazing
ardently upon her, he conjured her, with a tone and emphasis that
strongly expressed the tumultuous vehemence of his wishes, that she
would renounce the rites which had been forbidden above, and that she
would receive him to whom by miracle she had been alloted.

ALMEIDA, whom the manner and voice of ALMORAN had terrified into
silence, answered him at first only with a look that expressed aversion
and disdain, overawed by fear. 'Wilt thou not,' said ALMORAN, 'fulfill
the decrees of Heaven? I conjure thee, 'by Heaven, to answer.' From