Albert Bierstadt Lake Mary California paintingAlbert Bierstadt Beach at Nassau paintingAlbert Bierstadt Fishing from a Canoe painting
creamy sheet. He calls to her: "Was I attacked?" Hind turns to him, smiling her Hind smile. "Attacked?" she mimics him, and claps her hands for breakfast. Minions enter, bring, serve, remove, scurry off. Mahound is helped into a silken robe of black and gold; Hind, exaggeratedly, averts her eyes. "My head," he asks again. "Was I struck?" She stands at the window, her head hung low, playing the demure maid. "Oh, Messenger, Messenger," she mocks him. "What an ungallant Messenger it is. Couldn't you have come to my room consciously, of your own will? No, of course not, I repel you, I'm sure." He will not play her . "Am I a prisoner?" he asks, and again she laughs at him. "Don't be a fool." And then, shrugging, relents: "I was walking the city streets last night, masked, to see the festivities, and what should I stumble over but your unconscious body? Like a drunk in the gutter, Mahound. I sent my servants for a litter and brought you . Say thank you."
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