As I recalled once more that sad yearning face, and heard again that terrible "I cannot! I cannot!" I thought of Heine's son of Asra, who loved the Sultan's daughter.
"What is thy name, slave ?" asked the princess, "and what thy race and birthplace ?" "My name," the young slave answered, "is Mahomet.

I come from Yemen.
My race is that of Asra, and when we love, we die." And likewise a voice kept saying in my heart, "If ever you find your Golden Bride, be sure she will die.".