Every evening she returns mournfully to her little dwelling, and whenever she sits down to supper she places opposite to her a platter and a mug--and so she waits for him who comes not. At night she lays Halil's pillow beside her, and puts _their_ child between the pillow and herself that he may find it there when he comes.
One day there came a tapping at her window. With joy she leaps from her bed to open it.
It is not Halil but a pigeon--a carrier-pigeon bringing a letter.
Gül-Bejáze opens the letter and reads it through--and a second time she reads it through, and then she reads it through a third time, and then she begins to smile and whispers to herself:
From henceforth a mild insanity takes possession of the woman's mind--a species of dumb monomania which is only observable when her fixed idea happens to be touched upon.
At eventide she again betakes herself to the road which leads out of the valley. She shows the letter to an old serving-maid, telling her that the letter says that Halil is about to arrive, and a good supper must be made ready for him. The servant cannot read, so she believes her mistress.
An hour later the woman comes back to the house full of joy, her cheeks have quite a colour so quickly has she come.
"Hast thou not seen him?" she inquires of the servant.
"Halil. He has arrived. He came another way, and must be in the house by now."
The servant fancies that perchance Halil has come secretly and she, also full of joy, follows her mistress into the room where the table has been spread for two persons.
"Well, thou seest that he is here," cries Gül-Bejáze, pointing to the empty place, and rushing to the spot, she embraces an invisible shape, her burning kisses resound through the air, and her eyes intoxicated with delight gaze lovingly--at nothing.
"Look at thy child!" she cries, lifting up her little son; "take him in thine arms. So! Kiss him not so roughly, for he is asleep. Look! thy kisses have awakened him. Thy beard has tickled him, and he has opened his eyes. Rock him in thine arms a little. Thou wert so fond of nursing him once upon a time. So! take him on thy lap. What! art thou tired? Wait and I will fill up thy glass for thee. Isn't the water icy-cold? I have just filled it from the spring myself."
