Gibran Stories Omnibus

their hearts, their palaces, institutions and hopes
behind. In an hour I saw Selma walking in the midst of the gardens and
I approaching the temple, leaning on her parasol as if she were
carrying all the worries of the world upon her shoulders. As she
entered the temple and sat by me, I noticed some sort of change in her
eyes and I was anxious to inquire about it.
      Selma felt what was going on in my mind, and she put her hand on my
head and said, “Come close to me, come my beloved, come and let me
quench my thirst, for the hour of separation has come.”
      I asked her, “Did your husband find out about our meeting her?” She
responded, “My husband does not care about me, neither does he know how
I spend my time, for he is busy with those poor girls whom poverty has
driven into the houses of ill fame; those girls who sell their bodies
for bread, kneaded with blood and tears.”
      I inquired, “What prevents you from coming to this temple and
sitting by me reverently before God? Is your soul requesting our
separation.?”
      She answered with tears in her eyes, “No, my beloved, my spirit did
not ask for separation, for you are a part of me. My eyes never get
tired of looking at you, for you are their light; but if destiny ruled
that I should walk the rough path of life loaded with shackles, would I
be satisfied if your fate should be like mine?” Then she added, “I
cannot say everything, because the tongue is mute with pain and cannot
talk; the lips are sealed with misery and cannot move; all I can say to
you is that I am afraid you may fall in the same trap I fell in.”
      When I asked, “What do you mean, Selma, and of whom are you afraid?”
She covered her face with her hands and said, “The Bishop has already
found out that once a month I have been leaving the grave which he
buried me in.”
      I inquired, “Did the Bishop find out about our meetings here?” She
answered, “If he did, you would not see me here sitting by you, but he
is getting suspicious and he informed all his servants and guards to
watch me closely. I am feeling that the house I live in and the path I
walk on are all eyes watching me, and fingers pointing at me, and ears
listening to the whisper of my thoughts.”
      She was silent for a while, and then she added, with tears pouring
down her cheeks, “I am not afraid of the Bishop, for wetness does not
scare the drowned, but I am afraid you might fall into the trap and
become his prey; you are still young and free as the sunlight. I am not
frightened of fate which has shot all its arrows in my breast, but I am
afraid the serpent might bite your feet and detain you from climbing
the mountain peak where the future awaits you with its pleasure and
glory.”
      I said, “He who has not been bitten by the serpents of light and
snapped at by the wolves of darkness will always be deceived by the
days and nights. But listen, Selma, listen carefully; is separation the
only means of avoiding people's evils and meanness? Has the path of
love and freedom been closed and is nothing left except submission to
the will of the slaves of death?”
      She responded, “Nothing is left save separation and bidding each
other farewell.”
      With rebellious spirit I took her hand and said excitedly, “We have
yielded to the people's will for a long time; since the time we met
until this hour we have been led by the blind and have worshipped with
them before their idols. Since the time I met you we have been in the
hands of the Bishop like two balls which he has thrown around as he
pleased. Are we going to submit to his will until death takes us away?
Did God give us the breath of life to place it under death's feet? Did
He give us liberty to make it a shadow of slavery? He who extinguishes
his spirit's fire with his own hands is an infidel in the eyes of
Heaven, for Heaven set the fire that burns in our spirits. He who does
not rebel against oppression is doing himself injustice. I love you,
Selma, and you love me, too; and Love is a precious treasure, it is
God's gift to sensitive and great spirits. Shall we throw this treasure
away and let the pigs scatter it and trample on it? This world is full
of wonder and beauty. Why are we living in this narrow tunnel which the
Bishop and his assistants have dug out for us? Life is full of
happiness and freedom; why