Gibran Stories Omnibus

created in
years or even generations.
      Then Selma raised her head and gazed at the horizon where Mount
Sunnin meets the sky, and said, “Yesterday you were like a brother to
me, with whom I lived and by whom I sat calmly under my father's care.
Now, I feel the presence of something stranger and sweeter than
brotherly affection, an unfamiliar commingling of love and fear that
fills my heart with sorrow and happiness.”
      I responded, “This emotion which we fear and which shakes us when it
passes through our hearts is the law of nature that guides the moon
around the earth and the sun around the God.”
      She put her hand on my head and wove her fingers through my hair.
Her face brightened and tears came out of her eyes like drops of dew on
the leaves of a lily, and she said, “Who would believe our story — who
would believe that in this hour we have surmounted the obstacles of
doubt? Who would believe that the month of Nisan which brought us
together for the first time, is the month that halted us in the Holy of
Holies of life?”
      Her hand was still on my head as she spoke, and I would not have
preferred a royal crown or a wreath of glory to that beautiful smooth
hand whose fingers were twined in my hair.
      Then I answered her: “People will not believe our story because they
do not know what love is the only flower that grows and blossoms
without the aid of seasons, but was it Nisan that brought us together
for the first time, and is it this hour that has arrested us in the
Holy of Holies of life? Is it not the hand of God that brought our
souls close together before birth and made us prisoners of each other
for all the days and nights? Man's life does not commence in the womb
and never ends in the grave; and this firmament, full of moonlight and
stars, is not deserted by loving souls and intuitive spirits.”
      As she drew her hand away from my head, I felt a kind of electrical
vibration at the roots of my hair mingled with the night breeze. Like a
devoted worshiper who receives his blessing by kissing the altar in a
shrine, I took Selma's hand, placed my burning lips on it, and gave it
a long kiss, the memory of which melts my heart and awakens by its
sweetness all the virtue of my spirit.
      An hour passed, every minute of which was a year of love. The
silence of the night, moonlight, flowers, and trees made us forget all
reality except love, when suddenly we heard the galloping of horses and
rattling of carriage wheels. Awakened from our pleasant swoon and
plunged from the world of dreams into the world of perplexity and
misery, we found that the old man had returned from his mission. We
rose and walked through the orchard to meet him.
      Then the carriage reached the entrance of the garden, Farris Effandi
dismounted and slowly walked towards us, bending forward slightly as if
he were carrying a heavy load. He approached Selma and placed both of
his hands on her shoulders and stared at her. Tears coursed down his
wrinkled cheeks and his lips trembled with sorrowful smile. In a
choking voice, he said, “My beloved Selma, very soon you will be taken
away from the arms of your father to the arms of another man. Very soon
fate will carry you from this lonely home to the world's spacious
court, and this garden will miss the pressure of your footsteps, and
your father will become a stranger to you. All is done; may God bless
you.”
      Hearing these words, Selma's face clouded and her eyes froze as if
she felt a premonition of death. Then she screamed, like a bird shot
down, suffering, and trembling, and in a choked voice said, “What do
you say? What do you mean? Where are you sending me?”
      Then she looked at him searchingly, trying to discover his secret.
In a moment she said, “I understand. I understand everything. The
Bishop has demanded me from you and has prepared a cage for this bird
with broken wings. Is this your will, Father?”
      His answer was a deep sigh. Tenderly he led Selma into the house
while I remained standing in the garden, waves of perplexity beating
upon me like a tempest upon autumn leaves. Then I followed them into
the living room, and to avoid embarrassment, shook the old man's hand,
looked at Selma, my beautiful star, and left the house.
      As I reached the end of the garden I heard the old man calling me
and turned